The Fall Index
by SirPapillon
Summary: Sequel to "The Pyrrhic Clause". McGee and DiNozzo are recruited by Trent Kort for a covert Op that takes them out of the country. What adventures and dangers lie ahead for our boys? Rated M for language, violence etc. Established relationship. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Everyone! So, although it has taken me a while longer to start a sequel to The Pyrrhic Clause than I intended, here is the first chapter. Please let me know what you think of it! And feel free to let others know ;)**

**A/N: I do not own NCIS, the characters, the desks they use, their clothes, their sandwiches etc. **

**WARNING: Contains Language.**

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><p>Tim McGee tapped feverishly through fingerless black gloves at the computer, a black skullcap low on his head. He was seated at a creaky card table in a run down apartment that was littered with empty bottles and trash. Rats scurried to and fro, their shadows transforming them into enormous sizes on the walls. Chinese symbols in spray paint adorned the inside of the condemned one bedroom apartment. It was on a top level floor of an apartment building in the Sham Shui Po District in Hong Kong, China. Rain pattered against the cracked windows in droves, as the neon lights of the slums reflected glaringly against McGee's eyes.<p>

"Just a couple more levels." The agent whispered to himself, his submachine gun lay on the table next to the laptop he was working on. His fingers typed away as levels of encryption fell. _Access. I need access. I need to slow their operation. I need to plant this virus. They need to stop._

***ACCESS DENIED***

_Dammit! Maybe this will work._

***ACCESS DENIED* **

The letters blinked menacingly at him as sweat dripped off his nose. _Their gonna be here soon. We need to get out of here!_ He continued typing, now looking for a backdoor entrance through the weakened firewall. The deep greens of the screen flickered along against his pupils. _Damn, that Russian runs a tight ship._

"McGee! McGee, I can hear them coming down the halls! We gotta book it! You done?" Tony DiNozzo, clad in jeans, combat boots, a tactical vest over a tight black t-shirt, stood in front of the door of the apartment, his assault rifle slung around his back as he looked through the peephole.

"Yeah yeah, almost there. It would have helped if the Agency could have bought us a larger window of time."

The CIA, in assisting the two agent's operation, had infiltrated Mikhailov's firewall with a bug, that would render it weakened. Weak enough for McGee to plant the virus. But the program was designed to reset the firewall security systems every five minutes. A five minute window. It was their only shot. And McGee only had seconds left.

"Seriously Tim, and you know I only use your first name when I'm serious. We need to get the fuck out of here!"

"I know I know! I'm almost there." With unbridled focus, his fingers whisked over the keyboard.

"37 seconds McGee." Tony glanced at his watch.

Harsh Russian voices came from the hall through the door. Loud thumping of boots, and clanking of firearms. The voices got louder, and the light of a flashlight replaced the dull blinking of the suspended bulb the cascaded under the door from the hall.

"Shit shit shit Probie!"

***ACCESS GRANTED***

"Got it!" McGee raised his arms in victory.

"Okaaay…" McGee typed a few more codes of data, drawing the virus from the flashdrive in the side of the computer and into Mikhailov's coding.

"Good planted, lets go!" McGee called, closing the computer, sliding it into his backpack, and slinging it onto his back. He picked up his submachine gun, cocked it, and looked to Tony, who had his ear against the door.

Suddenly, a hole ripped through center of the door, right beside Tony's head. Cordite lingered in as the agents' ears rang. They heard a shotgun being reracked and the harsh Russian voices begin again.

"Probie! Plan B!" Tony stumbled, fingers in his ears. He immediately regained his focus and tossed a fragmentation grenade through the hole in the door that the shotgun made as he ran to McGee.

"What's plan-"

"Follow me!" Tony shot out the glass of the side of the room McGee was working in, leaping through it and onto the rusty fire escape ladder outside. McGee looked in wonder. The ladder was at least five feet from the window, and Tony had already made his way onto the roof of the building below them and was running across it, looking back. When McGee heard the grenade and the Russian cries and cursing, he took a running start, and leapt.

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><p>He made his way down the ladder, tracing Tony's steps across the flooded rooftop. <em>Good thing the computer is waterproof.<em> _Hope it's bulletproof too._

He caught up to Tony, who had leapt onto the balcony of an apartment across an alley. McGee followed suit, realizing that looking down was not the smartest idea. As he passed over the alley, he couldn't even see the bottom. It looked like a square well, the bottom most likely littered with garbage. Maybe even a body or two. They had to be at least ten stories high. And if the fall didn't kill you, the rats or the Russians would.

Mcgee landed on the balcony as Tony kicked the door in, eliciting the cries of a Chinese family, startled in the night.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Tony whispered as he ran through the dirty, crowded apartment, throwing open the front door, closely followed by McGee.

They sprinted through the hallways. They were filthy; rotting garbage, food, graffiti, rats. Oh, the rats. They ducked under hanging wires and leaking sewer pipes and splashed through puddles of god knows what. Weaving their way through the apartment halls, Tony finally turned. There was a window at the end of the hall.

Tony grinned. _Must be at the North side of the building, above an alley. Can't touch the ground yet, still a few blocks to go. I don't want to spend the rest of my days in some commie gulag. _

Upon reaching the window, he used the nose of his gun to break the glass, clearing the large pieces from the frame. The rain buzzed by noisily. McGee turned his head as the lonesome notes of an erhu caught his ear. A baby cried somewhere in the dirty apartment complex as the hanging bulbs flickered like some mad dream. Tony surveyed the jump.

"Alright Probie, you or me first?"

"I'll go, you cover. You're going first in everything."

"Oh-ho McEnvy. Be my guest. By the way, the next rooftop looks about 15 feet down, and 8 feet out."

McGee gulped, took a glance out the window, immediately regretted it, then backed down the hall for a running start. Tony crouched by the window, raising his rifle to be sure no one was following them. McGee began to sprint. At the last moment, he crouched and leapt through the window, leading with his feet.

As he fell, he saw how beautifully dark and romantic the Sham Shui Po District was. Large neon signs in Chinese characters were suspended haphazardly at various altitudes about the countless buildings that surrounded them. The different bright colors made gorgeous paintings in the rain as it fell, as well as the puddles. _Damn, puddles! I'm falling!_

McGee hit the roof, rolled, and finally skidded to a stop on his back. He immediately stood, held his weapon, and checked himself for pain. _Wow, didn't even sprain an ankle. _

In an instant, Tony came flying through the window. He landed in the same spot McGee had, and rolled unceremoniously to his partners feet.

"Woooo Probie that was great! We gotta-" Tony was laughing, but paused when he heard a creak. The two agents looked at each other curiously. Then, the roof under them gave way, and they fell through.

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><p><strong>So, that is the first chapter! I hope you like it and feel it's got a promising start. The second chapter (and following chapters) will explain how our boys got where they are now. Reviews are always loved :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey all! I'm gonna post the second chapter to The Fall Index onto the backside of this story, just in case people read The Pyrrhic Clause and want to know if there's a sequel going on. I will also be posting The Fall Index as a different fic, and this will be the last chapter of The Fall Index I'll put here. **

**Also, (not advertising too much ;) ) but if you like this story, I wrote a couple McGiva oneshots called "Window Seat?" and "You Are Not Don Juan Triumphant". They're my first shots at oneshots, so feedback, constructive criticism is welcomed. **

**WARNING: Language**

**I do not own NCIS, or NICS, or CISN... blah blah blah**

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><p><strong>3 Months Earlier<strong>

Tim McGee tossed in his bed. Images of himself kept flashing across his eyelids. Images of himself, white faced with black circles around his eyes. He watched, as if from a third person perspective, as he walked across an abandoned shipwrecked vessel. It was enormous, like a naval destroyer. It was perched precariously on a frozen mountain range, snow swirling about. Thankfully, in this nightmare, he was wearing what appeared to be the gear of a turn-of-the-century mountaineer. Snow goggles were perched upon his forehead as he wound his way around the vessel. Searching.

_It's here. I know it's here._

He yanked open an icy door and held up an old lantern, lighting the inside of the vessel. It had obviously been there for some time. Belching from it the smell of decades of disuse. Despite finding shelter from the storm, the inside of the ship as just as cold as it was on the outside. But it was a still cold, a silent cold, a dead cold.

He walked carefully, stepping through doorways and down steel hallways. Finally, somewhere near the aft of the ship, deep within its hull, he spied a door down the hall. It was ajar, a soft yellow light filtering through. As he got closer, he heard a familiar 'shush shush shush' sound. He tiptoed to the door, pushed it open, and stepped into the room. It was identical to Gibbs basement.

Within the room was the wooden frame of a little boat beside a workbench. Tools were neatly ordered on the workbench, as well as a mason jar of bourbon. McGee watched as a man, not fitting the description of Gibbs, clad in a U.S.M.C. Sweater and grey sweatpants sanded one of the boat's wooden ribs.

Shush shush shush.

"Gibbs?"

"Nope."

"W-who are you?"

McGee couldn't see the man's face, as it was turned away, but upon hearing the question, the man straightened up, and turned. McGee tensed. He was looking at himself. _Why am I in Gibbs' basement, dressed like him, and building a boat?_

"Surprised, McGee?" The other McGee asked, making no facial expression (much like Gibbs).

"Yeah, well umm, what are you doing here?"

"Was gonna ask you the same thing."

"Well, umm, I get it. You are me. But why aren't you Gibbs? Gibbs should be making a boat."

"Yes, McGee, why aren't you Gibbs?" the impostor asked.

"I, well, I don't know. Because I'm McGee."

"But I'm McGee."

"And you're dressed like Gibbs."

"No." The impostor stated bluntly, pointing the sander at the real McGee. "You're dressed like Gibbs."

McGee looked down at his clothes. They (as are occasional in dreams), had completely changed wardrobe somehow. He was now donning the same gillie suit and equipment Gibbs had worn in Somalia. The real McGee looked questioningly at the impostor McGee.

He continued sanding, but began blurting out phrases nonsensically.

"Grab. Gear. We gotta dead marine. DiNozzo. Ziver. We don't negotiate with terrorists. Rule 12. Rule 34. Rule 3. Rule 17. Rule 51. Today, McGee!"

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><p>McGee woke with a start. He had tangled himself so thoroughly in his bed sheets that his arms were flush against his sides. <em>It was just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare. <em>Finally unwinding himself from the covers, McGee sat up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at his phone. 7:32 am. _That's not too bad. Got a good five hours of sleep this time._

He was about to roll out of bed, when a warm hand grasped his arm. He turned with a start, then smiled, seeing the groggy Israeli woman looking at him, sleep still heavy in her eyes.

"Mummf?" she huffed as she pulled him back into bed, nestling her cheek up into his neck. Tim smiled, stroking her hair as she kissed his neck lightly. He planted a kiss on the top of her head, immediately picking strands of hair from his lips.

"Z, I gotta go work out with Tony. We're meeting at the track at 8:30."

Ziva looked at him, her eyebrows low with suspicion.

"But it's Saturday! Tim, why are you working out so much? I mean, I am not complaining, but usually a man works out to get a woman's attention Then stops once he has the woman. You are opposite, no?"

McGee squeezed her. "Just wanna look good for you."

With that, he tore himself tenderly from her grasp as she let out a frustrated sigh, pulling the covers around her and rolling over.

McGee knew that was not completely a lie. He did feel that, with this beautiful woman with him, he needed to make himself more physically impressive. It's just the way men are. Compared to other men, he felt inadequate, even though he knew that that was not the deciding factor in their relationship. Ziva would never end the relationship because McGee didn't have an eight-pack. So, yes, McGee did want to physically impress her, but he left out the second half. That Tony and he would be needing the stamina. The training. The strength. Kort had said so. With that he threw on some athletic clothes, tying tight some running shoes, and headed out the door.

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><p>He walked slowly, his hoodie pulled low over his eyes as light snow danced across his face. It was only a few blocks to the local high school, and Tony would probably be there already. As if on cue, his phone rang.<p>

"McGee."

"Probetastic, how's it going?"

"Good Tony, just heading to the track. Where are you?"

"Oh, you know, been in the parking lot for a bit. You know the car heater is a wonderful invention. We could just-"

"No Tony. We are not skipping the workout." Tony groaned.

"We're doing bleachers today aren't we?"

"Yeah Tony."

"And the pushup pyramid thing?"

"Yep."

"And the pullups?"

"Yeah."

"Fine McDrill-Sergeant."

"I'll meet you on the track, okay Tony?"

"Blarg."

McGee shut the phone, throwing it into the duffel he carried over his shoulder. When they had begun working out together, Tony had beat him in almost everything (minus long distance running). But, as time went on and their training became more rigorous McGee began to see it as he saw many things in life. He researched the functions of the body, the adaptations of muscles, bones, even hormones and metabolism as a result of exercise. While he had been fairly fit, he had never been in good shape. McGee saw working out as a case study. A way to observe the physiological changes that he had read about, only in his own body. It fascinated him the way the body would change based on external stimuli. He had read how a university researcher had tested a group of runners on a treadmill, while simultaneously having them complete cognitive puzzles, tasks, and visual acuity tests. With increased physiological stress during training, the time it took the runners to complete the tests decreased. Once McGee realized the connection between body power and brain power, he was all in. And Tony hated it.

The older agent was quite fit, but he was a fan of comfortable things. He was a fan of sleeping in, of staying seated, of a warm car interior. He was a fan of the hot air blowing out of the vents of his car. He was a fan of the idea of kidnapping McGee and going to get an omelet. Tony took a sip of his coffee, holding the cup with both hands, the warmth almost burning his palms. _Damn you, Timothy McLance Armstrong. I swear if you don't let us get an omelet I'm going to-._

Tony was woken from his thoughts as McGee rapped a knuckle on his window. Tony grew a large smile and pointed to the passenger seat. McGee shook his head.

"Let's go Tony!" Tim yelled through the glass.

"I want an omelet!"

"Tony…"

"Omelet!"

"Tony!"

"Omelet!"

McGee shook his head and turned, heading towards the track. Tony watched him, disappointed, but in admiration. He quickly hopped out of the car and jogged after the younger man.

"Fuck McGee, it's gotta be below zero out here! With this type of training we could be crab fishermen!" McGee was silent as he tossed his duffel onto the track and began stretching.

"Ok McGoo, what is it today?"

"One lap around the track, moderate intensity, then bleachers five times, then five pushups, then 5 pullups. Then another lap, five bleachers, ten pushups, ten pullups. Then another lap, five bleachers-".

"Fifteen pushups, fifteen pullups. I got it." Tony interrupted, groaning. He shook his head and began mimicking McGee's stretches. They caught eyes, and Tony noticed McGee looking at him seriously.

"Look Tony, whatever we gotta do for Kort, I don't want to be winded. I don't want physical performance to limit us. Or worse, get us killed. It's just that… I care about you Tony, and we gotta be at our best shape."

"I know I know McGee. Let's just get this done. Omelet's after?"

"Sure Tony." McGee smiled at his friend and began a slow jog along the track. Tony pulled himself together, and jogged after him. _I sure as hell hope whatever Kort has us do isn't this bad._

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><p><strong><em>So<em> as I said before, I will be posting this fic seperate from the Pyrrhic Clause, and invite you to check it out! If you like. Also (as stated above, I wrote my first oneshots today. **They're called "Window Seat?" and "You Are Not Don Juan Triumphant". I hope you enjoy!****


	3. Chapter 3

**Good evening everyone! Sorry to keep you waiting too long. This story is harder to write than The Pyrrhic Clause (i get so sidetracked with different ideas and paths, and trying to figure out when they should converge) so please forgive me. Here is Chapter three (woohoo!) It is a bit intense though...**

**Warning: Contains Language, Talk of Torture, Torture...**

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><p>"Mikhailov! Mikhailov! There has been a breach!" Eckhardt Fuchs called to the Russian as he climbed over thick roots deep within the Borneo rainforest. Sweat dropped from his brow and from his thin hair. As he ran, he swatted at bugs. Fuchs hated bugs. How he'd ended up in Borneo, he had no idea. All he knew, was that he and the Russian wanted the same thing.<p>

The lanky German wound his way through the encampment that surrounded the temple. Soldiers lounged about, cradling assault rifles in their arms. Many of them pointed and laughed as the weak man jogged along, wheezing.

"Mikhailov!" Fuchs finally reached Mikhailov's tent, throwing open the flap. Within it, with startled, yet bored and unwelcoming expressions on their faces, was Mikhailov, the lead (and most brutal aside from Mikhailov himself) soldier Dima, and a beautiful Indonesian woman. They all stood at Eckhardt's entrance, but not out of respect.

"Vat, Fuchs?" Mikhailov demanded.

"There has been a breach. Vun of the computer technicians you hired. Ve backtraced a trojan horse to his login. It penetrated to The Index!"

Mikhailov's eyebrows rose, as a hint of anxiety spread across his face. He quickly replaced it with the evil squint he was known by. "Is that so? Bring him to me."

"Yes Mikhailov!" Fuchs pulled a walkie talkie from his pocket, informed whoever was on the other line that Mikhailov wanted the technician brought to him, then began pacing the tent nervously. Mikhailov frowned, shaking his head at the mud Fuchs had brought in with him.

The Indonesian woman stood and walked slowly over to Fuchs. She smiled upon reaching him and ran her hand through his hair.

"Now Fuchs, do not worry. We will take care of this issue, and everything will be on schedule."

"Yes, Arti." Fuchs managed as he gave her a feeble smile, really taking in Arti's beauty.

She was almost as tall as him, at 5'7'', with deep brown eyes and black tattoo patterns running the length of her entire body. There were even designs around her ears and neck. The black of the ink paired perfectly with her dark skin. Her body, a sheer hourglass. She reminded Fuchs of the stories of the Amazon warrior women he had read about once when he was young. Calmly, she patted his shoulder, then took a seat next to Mikhailov, who grinned sadistically.

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><p>Within minutes, a short hispanic man was drug into the tent and thrown unceremoniously onto the floor. His face had already begun to bruise from when they found him. The two tattooed Russian soldiers crossed their arms as they stood behind him. The man simply got to his knees, a pleading look on his face.<p>

"Mikhailov, I did not do it! I've been trying to remove the trojan horse from The Index ever since we found out. Why would I try to remove it if I planted it?" the man cried.

Mikhailov slowly stood, and without uttering a word, nodded to the two soldiers. They grabbed the man, lifted him as he began kicking and clawing, and held him on his knees next to the table Mikhailov had been sitting at. One man held him behind the shoulders as the other grasped one arm, outstretched it on the table, pressing his palm onto the dark wood. The guard laughed as Mikhailov pulled a knife from a holster on his ankle.

"Spread your fingers, Ethan. If that is your name." Mikhailov seethed.

The man known as Ethan closed his eyes as sweat dripped from his face. As he dropped his forehead to touch the table, he spread his fingers wide.

"No Ethan, I vant you to vatch. Open your eyes, boy."

Ethan opened his eyes slowly, focusing on his outstretched fingers. It was then that he noticed many gouges and divots in the wood of the table. Along with dried blood.

Without warning, Mikhailov slammed the point of the long blade into the table, precisely between Ethan's thumb and index finger. Ethan whimpered.

"I did not do it-"

"Shut up!" Mikhailov yelled. The tension within the tent rose as Mikhailov ripped the knife from the table, and began slamming it repeatedly between Ethan's fingers.

"You see what I'm trying to do Ethan? Do you see? I am trying to change everything!" Mikhailov raised his arms, looking up as he did so.

"You vill not be able to program effectively with no fingers, am I right? Shall I start with the little one? Or the thumb? You vill live life as an outcast vith no fingers. Or maybe, I should cut off another piece of you?"

At that, the guards cringed. Ethan looked to Mikhailov, who grinned like a wild dog.

"But I vould have to have you take off your pants for that."

Tears began to slide down Ethan's face as he realized what Mikhailov was insinuating. Ethan looked at his outstretched hand. What had he gotten himself into? He thought of his friends back home. He thought of a life without his fingers. It haunted him, knowing that at the whim of this psychotic man, his life could end. _So the stories are true,_ he thought. All the computer technicians within the temple had whispered under flickering torchlight of Mikhailov's methods. Rumors circulated about how, if he even sensed traitorous feelings, he wouldn't hesitate to inflict excruciating pain. Many said that he enjoyed it; enjoyed looking a man in his eyes as he cut pieces from their bodies. Once before (much like Ethan's experience), a technician, without warning, was simply ripped from their computer, and never seen again. But they were heard again. Mikhailov made sure everyone could hear what he was doing to his victims. He ensured ferocious loyalty through fear. And with an army of equally terrifying soldiers at his disposal, who could resist? Once anyone took a step into Mikhailov's rabbit hole, there was no going back.

Ethan swallowed as Mikhailov played with the knife, mentally cursing Trent Kort for recommending him for this Non-Official Cover mission for The Agency. Ethan knew the business was dangerous, and he knew the types of things Mikhailov could do. It reminded Ethan much like the novel, _Lord of the Flies_. Without an authoritative figure to keep an individual in check, they become primal and savage. And that was what Mikhailov was. _I'm going to kill Trent Kort if I get out of this alive. I just hope the two secondary agents that were mentioned in the briefing get here faster than he said. And they better be damn good._

"You know something Ethan? I liked you. You vere very motivated. Very dedicated. You vill not be killed. But it is just I cannot trust you right now. And I must take a piece of you. For show purposes. I hope you understand. Because, you know about The Index. Do you know what The Index is?" Ethan simply shook his head.

It was the truth. He had hunches of what The Index might actually be, but his job was to keep it safe. Keep it unreachable, and the firewalls strong. Impenetrable. That was why he was perfect for the job. It was why he was able to plant the trojan horse. It was designed by the best minds in Langley to be planted, appear removed without damaging the program, yet still lie dormant within the system. Its purpose was to provide a window of opportunity for external agents to hack into, and plant a virus that would cause Mikhailov's whole operation to come to a hault. It was timed perfectly. In 7 days, at 2248, a direct line would be established from the Sham Shui Po District in Hong Kong, to the computer network that contained The Index. Ethan just hoped that the projected completion time was accurate, and The Index couldn't connect to the Pentagon, the Kremlin, and the various other vital governmental security buildings in superpower nations before the virus was planted. _Whoever Kort is having plant the virus, better be damn good._

Mikhailov chuckled at Ethan. Slowly, he touched the tip of the blade to the latino man's chin, raising it so they locked eyes.

"No, my friend, I vill not kill you. I vill not kill you because you're the best technician I have. But I must make an example of you. You understand, yes?"

Arti pulled the flaps of the large tent together as the soldiers and technicians paused from their tasks at hearing the painful screams that pierced through the jungle.

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><p><strong>AN: I know I kinda skipped on describing the characters too much (i.e. Dima, Arti, and Ethan), but there are later chapters where i'll try to develop those characters more. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey All! sorry it's been so long since I updated. Been going through a nasty breakup and couldn't focus too much on writing. But I'm back! :) and here is Chapter 4! **

**WARNING: Contains Language**

**I DO NOT OWN NCIS BLARGIDY BLARG**

******P.S. I tried getting the military operation command right, but it may be a little off. If anyone who reads this is in or was in the military (first, thank you for your service), feel free to let me know how I can do it better. **

**As always, reviews are loooooooooved! :)**

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><p>"Hunngggghhh *cough cough cough*" Tony leaned against a fence at the track, reliving the coffee he had consumed about an hour ago. <em>God damn McTriathlete and his god damn pullups and god damn bleachers. <em>

McGee stood calmly by, watching as his friend threw up. While he wanted to keep going, he knew that their workout was good enough already. They had run about 6 miles, not including sprints up the bleachers. On top of that, they had amassed about 120 pushups and 80 pullups individually. It was a good workout, McGee concluded to himself as he chuckled at Tony.

"Don't laugh at me Probie! I'll vomit on your shoes!" Tony raised up to look at McGee.

"You wouldn't dare." McGee took a step back as he started laughing harder.

"Oh yes *cough*, I will!" At that, Tony took off running toward McGee, who whirled around and sprinted away, laughing all the way.

"I'm gonna puke all over you, you little punk!" The two ran down the track beneath the bleachers, as Tony gained on his partner. Tony almost had him caught when they heard a slow clap beginning to sound from the bleachers. The both slowed to a stop and turned to the bleachers as they heard a voice.

"Good show, Agent DiNozzo. And McGee. I'm impressed." Trent Kort, who was still clapping silently, a slim grin on his face, stepped down the snowy bleachers towards the two agents. The two agents silently watched the man, envying his thick overcoat and scarf.

"I watched your whole workout. Quite impressive, I must say. It seems you two are taking things seriously. That's good, because you have only tomorrow to explain to your friends, family, and coworkers that you'll be… out of touch for a while." Kort rubbed gloved fingers across his chin.

"Wait, we're leaving day after tomorrow?" Tony asked his finger making its way to his mouth as he edged towards McGee, still set on vomiting on the younger man for laughing at him. Kort nodded as he pulled out two manila envelopes and handed them to the agents. They both looked at them cautiously.

"You'll be reporting to Bolling Air Force Base at 0400 on Monday. Don't be late. Equipment, gear, and clothing will be provided. Just come as you are. Except you DiNozzo. No vomiting on my plane."

They both nodded, looking at each other, sharing an expression of anxiety. Kort caught their glance, deciding that encouraging the two agents would be his best way to have this mission to progress with little to no unforeseen issues.

"Look gentlemen, the Op you pulled in Somalia already should have proved to yourselves that you have what it takes for this kind of work. You stared death, and the past, which can be worse sometimes," at that he nodded to McGee, "in the face, and prevailed. You proved combat skills, and when it comes down to it, you'll pull the trigger. You'll be fine."

While encouragement and ego-boosting was not particularly an activity Kort liked to cultivate, he knew that it would do the two agents, and his N.O.C., some good. _I wonder how our ole' Ethan is doing anyhow. He hasn't checked in recently. I'll have to check on that._

"So, Kort. What kind of mission is this going to be? I mean, will it be dangerous?" McGee asked innocently. Kort snorted.

"Tim, it will be a cakewalk compared to an entire Somali militia on your tail while you bleed out in the back of a jeep. You'll be fine." Kort lied. He turned and began walking along the bleachers to the exit of track.

"Now go and rest up. No strained muscles I hope. I have already arranged to speak with Gibbs, so that will be covered. McGee, I think you have a girlfriend to explain some things to." He called over his shoulder, then disappeared. For several moments, the agents just stared after him. Finally Tony broke the silence.

"God, that guy is like a ghost! He just appears, and then is gone! I want that skill."

"We may need it for this Op, Tony." McGee replied, as he picked up his gym bag and threw the strap over his shoulder. He had a very, VERY difficult conversation to get ready for. _Ziva is not going to be happy. No, she's going to be pissed. Well, maybe this will show her how I'm not just a soft gentleman, and a real man._

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><p>Finally, after some more silence, Tony turned to McGee.<p>

"You know, I don't really want an omelet anymore." McGee looked at him in mock surprise.

"After all that fuss about it?" Tony looked at the envelope in his hands.

"I just want to find out what's in this. And prepare mentally for it. This is going to be intense McGee. My place?"

McGee nodded, and the two walked slowly to Tony's car, deep in their own thoughts.

Much like months before, when Kort had given them the envelope regarding information on Mikhailov and Fuchs, the two took a seat at Tony's coffee table, and spread out the contents of the envelopes in front of them. Their packets' contents were virtually identical, aside from specific pages regarding individual tasks during the Op.

_**I. **_

_Agency N.O.C.'s report 80% probability regarding situation and/or designation pertaining to one Leonid Mikhailov and one Eckhardt Fuchs in direct violation of U.S. and additional national security/homeland security (Section8a Proclamation 21b). Leonid Mikhailov and Eckhardt Fuchs are said, with probable cause, as demonstrated via N.O.C. Interaction, a viable and present threat to the U.S., as stated in Leonid Mikhailov's manifesto (source unknown/not authenticated. Information suggests a high capacity of aggression via information titled solely as "The Index". Additional information regarding index and it's origin pending. The Index, as made evident by Mikhailov's intent/manifesto, should be seen as an immense threat, and dealt with via cyber assault/infiltration from location below._

_**A.** Leonid Mikhailov, as demonstrated during the 1st U.S. involvement in Kosovo, led a rouge unit of the Serbian Army against the Albanian Kosovo Liberation Army and civilians in the area of Belgrade. His involvement can be linked to the mass graves found in that area. _

_ Many of his top soldiers in that unit, have remained in support of him. It is currently believed that 1-3 platoons of soldiers (riflemen, grenadiers, LMG units, A-A32 support units) are currently with him. From reconnaissance photos (source classified), this has been confirmed for the Borneo region (as informed below et. Al)._

_ In addition, Interpol, MI-5, FBI, CIA, and KGB, have confirmed communication between Mikhailov and known mercenary/private special military contractor organiations within the U.S., People's Republic of China, Russia, and The U.K. Situation volatility level high._

_**B. Friendly Forces** (CLASSIFIED)_

_C.I.A. N.O.C. Ethan Barnes (ALIAS): Computer Technician/Programmer_

_**C. Attachments**_

_C.I.A N.O.C. Ethan Barnes, _

_NCIS Special Agent Anthony "Tony" DiNozzo- Callsign: Orion_

_NCIS Special Agent Timothy- Callsign: Rook_

**_II. Mission_**

_Order of Operations: 11/13/11 2012 hours._

_**1. **_

_**a. **Paradrop No-Fly Zone Sector 17-X_

_**b. **Rendezvous at Tech Safe House: Sham Shui Po District, Hong Kong, China. 235 Hang Chueng Street, Appt. 549 A. _

_**c. **Acquire direct connection via established line via Ethan Barnes_

_**d. **Infiltrate through level 8 grade firewall protection (five minute window)_

_**f. **Infect "The Index" with "Saint Elmo's Fire" virus."_

_ **2.**_

_**a. **Rendezvous aboard "Destrallius" Barge via Stonecutter Bridge overpass._

_**b. **Enter "Destrallius" hull._

_**c. **Establish contact with O.C. Afloat (Alias Adam Skrill)_

_**3.**_

_**a. **Launch via F470 CRRC, Skrill guide to (CLASSIFIED LOCATION) Borneo._

_**b. **Provide overwatch/failsafe for Ethan Barnes._

_**c. **Assist Barnes as necessary_

_**NOTES:** Equipment not to be disclosed at this time. _

_**Pickup:** When Complete /_

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><p>Both agents finished reading the document, and turned to each other slowly.<p>

"Cakewalk compared to Somalia my ass!" DiNozzo snapped, his eyes ablaze.

"Damn, this sounds official."

"I know, Probie."

Still in disbelief at what they had gotten themselves into, they simply sat, staring at the paperwork. Tony broke the silence.

"Well, we got each others' backs. This will be one to tell our kids someday. Hell, who am I kidding, I won't have kids. I'll just have to tell your kids how kickass you are when they mouth off." Tony smiled at his friend. McGee barely smiled back.

"Hey, come on now Probie, this will be one helluva adventure! Think of it! We're gonna be like James Bond and Indian Jones combined! You can be Short Round! You have to call me Dr. Jones."

McGee chuckled, but it was forced. "Yeah, Tony. We can do this. We have to do this. But, I have to go… ummm, tell Ziva. Or, at least tell her I will be gone for a while. Level 8 grade firewall? I don't know if I can crack that! If Mikhailov has a Level 8 going, whatever 'The Index' is, is important. Or dangerous."

Tony placed his hand on McGee's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, but McGee continued to get agitated.

"And does that say paradrop?" he exclaimed as he reread that page.

"See! Right here! Paradrop? I'm afraid of heights, and I gotta jump out of a perfectly good airplane? Seriously?"

Tony's concern showed on his face.

"Tim, I'll be right behind you. I'll give you a nice little kick" He joked.

"And as far as Ziva is concerned, tell her you got me to look after you. Or wait, no, that may not help. Just tell her that you're doing some undercover work or something, and that won't be in contact with her for a while. She's used to that lifestyle. She'll understand."

McGee gathered his paperwork into the envelope and stood to leave.

"Yeah, but that's the life she escaped. The type of men that do these Ops are the type she's been trying to erase her entire life. And now I'm becoming that type of man." McGee ran his hand through his hair. "I just hope she understands."

Silently, McGee left, his heart pounding with the conversation he was about to have with Ziva.

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><p><strong>Reviews are loved! :) Chapter 5 should be coming soon...<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**The Fall Index: Chapter 5**

**I apologize again that I'm not uploading as fast as I'd like to, but eh, life is busy. And this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I will be most likely posting another chapter later today.**

**WARNING: Language, Torture, and just plain evil men**

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><p>Ethan stared at his hand, now curled into a fist on the table. He couldn't tear his eyes from the stump where his little finger once was. He was shaking as blood still poured from the wound. He couldn't describe the feeling. It wasn't the pain that he felt, or the deep hatred for the man who stood chuckling as he wiped the blade on a towel, but the feeling of a piece of his body, removed, without his consent. If this had been surgery, that would have been understandable. But, this man, this evil man, had stolen from him a piece of his body. It was something that made Ethan, Ethan. While it was only the little finger, it was gone now, lying on the table a few inches from his fist. Ethan flexed the muscles in his hand that would have moved his left little finger, but nothing happened. He half expected the removed digit to curl, but it didn't. It just lay there, turning a dark blue color. Mikhailov grinned.<p>

"So, you know now, how serious I am? Now tell me, who are you working for?" The man demanded. Ethan looked up from his kneeling position.

"You're a fucking animal." He whispered, half hoping the Russian didn't hear.

"Animal, Ethan? Ve are all animals. You, I, all of us. It is the animal in man, that allows us to prevail. Ve are primal beings, who live in a sedentary lethargic, and apathetic vorld. Ve sit at our televisions and take vor granted the life ve've been given. That's vhy I created The Index, Ethan. The Index vill allow us to be animals again. To be vat ve are meant to be. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Ve are all ashes, Ethan. Now tell me, C.I.A.? You know, I have many informants in The Agency. You vill tell me."

At that, Mikhailov nodded to Fuchs, who pulled from a chest a small box. There was something in Fuchs' eyes as he placed the box on the table, that Ethan couldn't place. Fuchs was smiling, almost gleefully. He looked like a child that had just been given a present. His eyes burned with playful anticipation as Fuchs opened that box. Within it were various surgical devices, a bottle, and a syringe. Fuchs skillfully picked up the latter two items, inverted the bottle, inserted the needle into it, and began to draw a hazy liquid into the syringe hub.

"You vill tell me who you are working for. You see, Ethan, vat Dr. Fuchs is preparing for you, is a dose of-". Mikhailov was cut off by Fuchs, who had become so excited in a medically sadistic way, that he forgot his place in the pecking order. Mikhailov let it slide.

"It's the Human Immunodeficiency Virus. HIV. And and and, it vill kill you. Eventually. In about 2-4 weeks, you vill experience flu like symptoms, a cough, inflammation of the lymph nodes and the pharynx, rash, disorientation, vomiting, diarrhea. Vithout proper medical attention, it vill develop into Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome, or AIDS-". This time Ethan cut Fuchs off.

"I know what the hell it is! You're a doctor?" Fuchs smiled, baring yellow teeth.

"Of sorts." He replied suspiciously. Mikhailov had had enough of the bickering.

"Listen, Ethan. You vill tell me who you are vorking for. If you do not, you vill die a prolonged and painful death. You vill not be able to share a voman's love, for fear of infecting her, so your life vill be stripped of romance, love, and your sense of masculinity. Now," Mikhailov leaned over the table, his face stopping inches from Ethan's, as he picked up the man's finger and held it in front of his face, "tell me who you are vorking for. But, first let me tell you vat I do know. I know another team is coming. I don't know vhere, or vhen, but I know they are coming. I vant to know who it is, and vat they were planning."

Ethan jumped as he heard the Doctor snap on a pair of latex gloves. Tears began to roll down his face as the life that he had hoped lie in front of him, the future he so desired, was about to be stolen from him, just like his finger. It was a future of happiness, of travel, of normalcy outside the agency, and of course, hopefully, love. He bit back his urge to start fighting, knowing he was outnumbered. He didn't want to betray his country, The Agency, or the two agents who would be on their way soon, but he couldn't face the sheer evil of these men and what they planned on doing to him. He dropped his gaze from Mikhailov's and gave in, and he began to speak.


	6. Chapter 6

**Told you'd I'd update again soon :) Here's chapter 6!**

**WARNING: Language**

**By the way, N.O.C. stands for Non-Official Cover. Basically a CIA Agent/Spy type.**

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><p>McGee took a deep breath as he slid the key into the lock. He paused for a moment, trying to settle his racing mind. He tried pushing the guilt away, but couldn't. He realized as soon as Ziva saw him, she'd know something was up. <em>Better get this over with. I just love her so damn much. Why can't anything be easy?<em> McGee turned the key, and opened the door.

"How was your workout?" Ziva asked cheerily as McGee entered the apartment. Her hair was pulled up tight, and she was still wearing a tight jogging sweatshirt and yoga pants from her run. She smiled as she handed McGee a protein shake and some toast, but immediately detected anxiety in his face.

"Oh, it was good Zee. Tony threw up. Again." McGee forced a chuckle as he took the shake and plate of toast and kissed her on the lips lightly. Just as he had taken his meal, Ziva snatched it from him, grabbed his hands, and led him to his couch.

"Timothy McGee, what is wrong? I can see it in your face. Now, I know how you get quiet when something is wrong, but can I help?" She smiled warmly at him. And it broke his heart.

It was true. After the sheer romance and excitement of a long term partnership, and coworker relationship had ended, and romance began, the new couple began learning about each other. At first, as could be imagined, their excitement and relief that they finally found each other was overwhelming, but soon reality set in, and the individual differences needed to be addressed. They weren't too great, as they had realized happily, but simply differences that needed to be understood and worked with. Compromises needed to be made. One of the first things that Ziva realized, was that when Tim would be upset, he would internalize it. Having never really had anyone to confide in in terms of issues he had, McGee had learned to deal with it on his own. Now that he was in a solid relationship with a woman he truly loved, he was, slowly but surely, realizing that this was incorrect. Ziva, as any loving girlfriend, wanted to help and wanted to assist him in finding a solution to any problems. It took a few months, as any lifelong habit will not be amended overnight, but soon he allowed her to help him. He allowed her entrance into his thoughts, fears, and insecurities.

After several brief and minor arguments, McGee began to realize that Ziva was someone he could, and should, confide in. It was no longer just him and Jethro and his typewriter, but Ziva too now. He couldn't just come home depressed, write, and feel better in the morning, because now he had someone who hurt when he hurt, cried when he cried, and worried when he worried.

Now, whether he liked it or not, he needed to share what was bothering him. He took a deep breath as he prepared to do so.

"Zee, I'm uh… how do I say this." Ziva's eyes narrowed as fear sprang into her heart.

"I'm going to be leaving the country. Only temporarily. Probably a week or so. But I'll be leaving the day after tomorrow."

Even with this news, Ziva sighed a breath of relief. _At least he's not breaking up with me, cheating on me, or something like that. Well, Tim would never cheat on me..._

"Ok… where are you going?" She asked softly as she sipped her coffee, her legs folded beneath her. McGee's hand was on her thigh, slowly caressing it as he stared into space and sought the proper wording.

"I… can't tell you. It's a… well it's a secret. It's… for work."

"NCIS? Why haven't I heard?"

"No Zee, it's not for NCIS. It's ummm, well I can't tell you. It's classified."

"Classified?"

"Yeah. I'm so sorry Zee." He turned to her and flung his arms around her. She barely had time to place her coffee on the table and hugged him back.

"I'm so sorry, it's…"

"It's Kort, isn't it." Ziva may not know exactly what was going on, but she wasn't stupid. She knew Kort would come calling. She had just hoped it wouldn't have been this soon. Or at all. She wanted as much time and security with the man she loved as she could get. McGee nodded against her shoulder.

"But that's all I can say, Ziva. Please believe me. And, well, it's not exactly… Safe." Ziva released from the hug. She stared into her partner's eyes, and what McGee saw killed him inside.

Ziva looked like a little girl. McGee knew the look from the few times he saw Ziva and her father together. And now, her partner, her boyfriend, her lover, was doing the same thing.

"It's just that, I want to impress you!" McGee exploded, standing abruptly.

"I see the way guys look at you. Who can blame them? But then they look at me, and it's like 'how did that nerd land that beautiful woman'? I want to show you that I'm strong! That I can be… manly. That I'm not just a soft computer nerd. That I'm not just little 'ole Timmy. I want you to see me like a man, not as a… what I am." McGee dropped his head, realizing what he had just said.

"I want to show you that… I'm strong. That I can take care of you. Guys look at you, and I know what they're thinking. I want them to see us, and think that they don't want to mess with me. I've been bullied all my life, and I just want, just once, to stand tall and strong against those 'men'. I want you to be confident that I can protect you."

Ziva stood, anger building within her as she spoke.

"That is why you're doing this? Because you want to be manly? And you don't think you are, Tim? You feel like you have to prove something to men you don't know? And prove to me that you are strong? Tim, you faced a man who tortured you, took a bullet, and with a hole in your chest shot him. You fired your rifle as you lost blood from the back of a jeep. I know you are strong. Many of the 'manly' men as you call them, who I've known, would have cried for their mothers in a situation like that. You were strong. Stronger than I have ever seen anyone. What more do you need to do to prove you are manly? That's all this is about? I don't want a more masculine boyfriend! I want you! You, Tim, are the man I love, just the way you are. Tim... I am disappointed, and hurt that you don't believe you are enough for me. If what you are going to be doing is to prove something, you will get hurt. I… I need to go for a walk."

She stood, pulling her hands from his, as she walked sadly to the door.

"Ziva, I just… It's just that I… love you so much. I don't want to lose you. Ever!" Tim stood as he cried out. She turned as she opened the door, nodding.

"I love you too Tim."

Then the door closed.

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><p>"Kort."<p>

"Gibbs."

Gibbs brushed some snow off one side of the park bench, and took a seat next to Kort, who held a newspaper nonchalantly in front of him.

"So, Jethro, I'm sure you understand the nature of our meeting." Gibbs nodded.

"You're two agents are needed. And, as I recall, they owe me a debt."

"They? Gibbs snapped. "I thought you just needed McGee? Why Tony? I'm sure he won't be able to help McGee with computer stuff in Langley." Kort sighed.

"Well, no, that is true. But... it's not in Langley." Gibbs eyes narrowed.

"And I'm sure you wouldn't want Agent McGee to perform an Agency Op solo. He needs someone to watch his back."

"Watch his back? What the hell are you doing with my agents?"

"Keep it down!" Kort snapped back. Although the snowy park was empty, Kort knew that one in his line of work could never trust the silence.

"You're agents, will be running an Op that is of incredible importance. I've brought with me a dossier for you that should explain most of it. You should be very proud of your boys."

"If they come back."

"They'll come back." Gibbs turned to Kort, his eyes on fire.

"Will they Kort? Will they come back? Ok, so they proved themselves in Somalia. Hell, I'm _more_ than impressed and proud of them. But this is a covert Op. This is for N.O.C.'s of the agency, not NCIS agents. You're not only putting their lives at risk, but you really think they'll do better than your agents?"

"You doubt Tim and Tony?"

"No, not in the least. But it's a goddamn Agency Op! If it's that important, why isn't The Agency taking control, and using their agents?"

"Because Gibbs" Kort's voice rose, "as capable as The Agency's computer techs are, none of our men or women can hack through encryption as fast as McGee. He's going to have a five minute window. The Agency needs him. And I'm sure you'd rather he have someone he trusts watching his back instead of one of my best agents."

Gibbs glared at Kort. Unfortunately, Gibbs knew Kort was right. McGee was the best. When it came to cases, the C.I.A. had their hands full trying to keep McGee from accessing their information. And McGee was always victorious in a matter of minutes.

Gibbs sighed as the truth hit him. McGee and DiNozzo were the perfect candidates if the Op was, in fact, so important. He finally gave in.

"Ok, Kort, but I want to be kept 'in the know'. I want… no need to know everything, as it happens. I want to be there to support them."

Kort nodded, smiling at this victory.

"Well, Gibbs, I've already arranged with Vance for that. The aggressor in this situation, is suspected, to have unidentified informants in The Agency. We'll be moving our Operation Command Center to MTAC. You'll be in the know. The Agency and NCIS are both seeing this opportunity as a way of… mending strained inter-agency relationships. You see Gibbs, I know how you are protective, but your boys are in the big leagues now. McGee is leadoff batter and DiNozzo is cleanup. You are only inhibiting their potential by protecting them. With all due respect, Jethro, of course."

Gibbs stared at Kort for a while, knowing that what this man was saying was in fact the truth. As much as he hated his agents being in any more danger than necessary, he was proud of them. He wanted to see them succeed. And now that he would be present during this Op, he could watch their potential grow. Finally, Gibbs nodded at Kort, who turned a page of the newspaper, pulled a manilla envelope from it, and handed it to the ex-marine. Gibbs studied it for a moment as Kort stood and began to walk away from the park bench through the snow.

"You should be proud, Gibbs. Even honored, of having worked with these men. They're one of a kind. And you'll see them in action the day after tomorrow." Kort called over his shoulder.

Gibbs looked back down at the manilla envelope. He was mad, frustrated, confused, but more than any of those, he was proud, and eager to see how his agents performed. Within the envelope, was a lump. There was something solid contained in it, that wasn't just paperwork. It was about the size of a shot glass and Gibbs wondered at it as he opened the envelope, and pulled the solid item from it.

In his hands, was a little game piece from Chess, made of dark wood. Gibbs turned it over in his palms as he looked at it questioningly. It was a castle, expertly carved.

"Rook." Gibbs whispered softly, as he wondered at what it could mean.

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><p><strong>Wooo! And don't worry, the story will really start taking off soon. I just have to cover a little bit more just so i'm not cutting corners in background and storytelling. The action will begin soon :)<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7! Huzzah! And thank you so much Junee, Camry72, Gottahavemyncis for the reviews! As everyone knows, authors loooooove reviews. I'm no exception :) Some of the reviews have even helped influence where my stories go, so have at thee! **

**WARNING: Language, Sexual Situations. That's why this is rated 'M'. **

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><p>Ziva was calming down. Maybe it was the cold air. Maybe it was the warm coffee in her hand. Or perhaps it was that the coffee shop where she'd gone was playing the same type of jazz that McGee loved. As she walked, she smiled to herself, remembering the drunk night so long ago. When she and McGee had first made love.<p>

As it was in any new passionate night, the two had entangled softly, carefully even. As clothes had come off and they explored each others' bodies, there was no insecurity. Both Ziva and Tim separately had their share of lovers (Ziva more than McGee), but the first time with each other was something different than all the others from the past. They hadn't worried about how they looked, or what sounds they made, or even what they personally preferred in the bedroom. Their first time had been filled with utter and complete comfort and trust. And that's why Ziva knew it was right. And that's why she had been so mad.

She knew that the men that McGee was involved with, were the type that she had gratefully and thankfully left to the past. She did fear that he would become like them, but this was McGee. McGee would never change. But, as Ziva knew full well, when men and women entered the type of work that was indicative of Mossad and The Agency, they often changed drastically.

She made her way up the steps to the apartment, worried slightly about what she'd find. She knew McGee could handle stress, but from previous encounters, her boyfriend was terrified when she was upset. It wasn't a 'whipped' type of fear, but a genuine guilt for upsetting his goddess. Truth be told, when Ziva was in the wrong, McGee told her so. Maybe that was what made this relationship so unique. All others who even had hunch of her past life, would fall, tail between their legs, at her anger. But not McGee. He knew who Ziva really was; a woman who wanted love, past life aside.

As she opened the door, she smiled at what she saw. McGee was still in the same spot he had been when she left. His face was in his hands as he sat on the couch. He turned slightly upon hearing her, and he frowned.

"Hey." he whispered.

"Hi." She replied, and moved over to the couch, took a seat against him, and curled up against his chest. He sighed deeply as he wrapped his arms about her. He kissed her cheek gingerly and whispered a sincere apology in her ear. She nodded.

"I am still a bit frustrated." She confessed. He nodded against her hair.

"But, I had some time to think about it. And I understand. Tony and Gibbs… and even I have put you down over the years. Tony and Gibbs are… what they like to think as the alpha-males of NCIS, no? They've never given you the full credit that you deserve, or allowed you to show how brave and… masculine you can be. I understand. But I want you to know, that you do not need to prove anything to me, yes? I've known you for years, Tim. I love you for who you are. If I wanted something other than what you are, we would not be together. But I want you, and only you. I know people may see you as the computer nerd, but that does not matter to me. I know what... who you are, and I want that." She turned to kiss him.

McGee kissed back, breathing a sigh of relief. _How, on God's green earth, did this happen? She's amazing._

"But, McGee." She pulled away to look at him, a stern expression on her face. McGee gulped.

"Just because I have forgiven you, does not mean I will not punish you." She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

"Oooooh reeeaallly?" he replied as he pinched her butt. She gave out a little yelp, then pulled him to his feet as she led him to the bedroom.

"But remember, I am still frustrated with you. So it may be a little… rough wake up sex." she squeezed his hand as she pushed him onto the bed.

"Make up sex, Ziva. Make up-" He was shut up by Ziva throwing her shirt in his face. He grinned like a fool, but was still a bit worried about the toll that Ziva David frustrated make up sex would cause on his body.

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><p>"I think I pulled a muscle."<p>

McGee spoke quietly as he looked at the scratches that Ziva had left on his chest. He shook his head as his lover snored quietly beside him. It was mid afternoon already, and he watched as snow continued to fall outside the window. _I swear to god she almost drew blood._ McGee softly ran his fingers over the deep red marks on his chest from Ziva's 'frustrated' clawing. _And I think I'm going to have bruises. _Ziva stirred, and they locked eyes. She blushed sheepishly as she saw the scratches she had made on his skin. He just shrugged.

"I think… we should get in more arguments." he joked, and she hit his arm, then snuggled in closer to him.

"What do you want to do today, McGee?"

"Well, David, I think I just want to spend time with you. We could stay in, maybe watch a movie, just hang out you know? Or I could get you mad. And then we could-."

She pressed her mouth to his to quiet him.

"I do not want to be mad at you again. But… with how… amazing that was, maybe I'll just pretend to be mad sometimes. Or get mad about something else, and take it out on your-"

"So how does coffee sound!" He cut her off, and she giggled, holding onto him as he slid out of bed. She let her arms flop onto the mattress as she watched his bare chiseled physique head out to the kitchen. _You did good, Ziva. You did good._

The rest of the day and evening was spent in a very uneventful fashion. Uneventful, but not without passion or joy. They laughed together. Even cried a once or twice (though Ziva would never admit that). They teased each other, and at one point, Ziva chased McGee around the couch with one of her knives as he laughed. But in the end, as the moon rose into finally clear skies, they sat cuddled on the couch, jazz flowing in passionate ebbs and flows, their forms wrapped intricately about the other as they simply were. The candlelight cast smooth tones upon them, their only focus was the other. And all was perfect.

Because they both, with unspoken words, understood that come a week from now, McGee may not be coming back.

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><p><strong>Reviews are loved! haha thank you all for reading! The next chapter should be up soon.<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Alright so I'm really getting started on this. Feels good to be able to get it out. And yes, the action (or the mission rather) will begin in the next few chapters! wooo! **

**Warning: Language**

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><p>"Worried about something DiNozzo?" Gibbs called as he heard Tony coming down the steps to the basement.<p>

"Seriously Boss, how do you do that?" Tony laughed as he handed the older man a bottle of bourbon and a pizza box. Gibbs pulled out two saw horses and the mason jars and poured three or four shots into each. He was about to ask his agent something about the Op, but stopped when he heard… nothing. Tony wasn't talking. Gibbs stared at the younger man intently. Tony's gaze was fixed, almost trance-like, on the little castle that Kort had given Gibbs in the envelope. The envelope, with all the paperwork, was spread out on the work table in the middle of Gibbs' basement.

"So… Kort told you eh? Figured the little shit snake would have to. What's with the castle? You gonna play Chess Boss?"

Gibbs shook his head as he picked up the little tower, rubbing his fingers across it.

"It's not a castle, Tony. It's a rook."

"Probie's callsign."

"Yep. And you're Orion."

"Yeah. Guess McGoo's a castle and I'm a bunch of stars. Difference between me and Orion is my belt is always coming off." Tony laughed heartily as he thought of his most recent one night stand, smiling to himself.

"Orion, in Greek mythology, is a hunter. He is said to be a skilled tracker, and a brave warrior. And" Gibbs laughed to himself, "it's said that he chases the Pleiades. The seven daughters of Atlas."

"Well that's fitting." Tony laughed again, but noticed Gibbs grim expression.

"Boss?"

"You take care of yourself. And McGee. You watch his back. Don't get distracted. Don't get killed, or worse, captured. I've never seen a brotherhood like yours. But something like this, if anything happens to either of you, will kill you for the rest of your life."

The older man handed Tony one of the mason jars, then grasped his shoulder and looked deep into the young agent's eyes.

"This isn't like going undercover, or a raid even. There will be no backup. If you get in a jam, you only got yourself, and McGee to get out of it."

Gibbs let go of Tony's arm, took the other mason jar, and leaned against the work bench.

"Operations like this are… hard."

"I know Boss."

"No, Tony, you don't. Because with this type of Op, it's the mission first, and your team second."

Tony looked at the floor.

"If it's as important as Kort said, whatever The Index is, it means that if you can complete the operation at the expense of you partner's life, you need to do it."

"Boss you can't-"

"When I was in the Corps..." Gibbs interupted, pausing for a moment as he looked far back into his past at something he had almost forgotten. But never could.

"...my platoon was broken into fire squads. I led five other men to assault the Southeast corner of an NVA compound. Our job was to draw the guards attention, while the other squads infiltrated the perimeter."

Gibbs became silent as he stared into the amber liquid in the jar, his jaw clenched.

"I had to… make decisions-" Gibbs cleared his throat, the difficulty of this long buried confession difficult to express.

"The NVA compound had been notorious for the detainment and torture of U.S. POW's. It needed to be taken. It needed to be neutralized. I… using U.S.M.C. protocol, selected two men in my fire squad to create the diversion. It worked. Both men, friends of mine, were killed because of my orders. Because the mission came first."

"Boss… I'm so-"

"It is what it is DiNozzo." Gibbs took a large gulp of the bourbon. "What we do, at NCIS, at crime scenes and arrests… it's nowhere near what you'll be doing. Your mentality has to change. When we are going to arrest someone, we got backup. If it comes down to taking a bullet, or letting the guy run for another hour, and catching him later, we'll pick catch him later. But an Agency Op, that's different entirely. You need to understand that, the importance riding on this Op is… big."

"Mission before the men."

"Yeah."

"Mission before McGee."

Gibbs grit his teeth. It took all that was within him to tell Tony this.

"Or mission before you, DiNozzo" The older man turned and locked eyes with his agent.

The power of the words cut Tony like a sword. _Self-Sacrifice. For the greater good. Whatever the fuck that is. Whatever The Index is. _

Tony thought for a moment, then grabbed a slice of pizza. He hadn't come to Gibbs looking for answers, or consolation even. It was simply to be with someone who understood what was going on inside the agent's head. The fact was, if it came down to it, Tony would be faced with the decision to leave Tim to die, if that meant stopping Mikhailov. And that Tim should do the same. But that was the problem. Tony knew that McGee wouldn't jeopardize their lives for The Index. Maybe McGee was too weak to do this. Tony loved his friend, that wasn't even a question. But, knowing Tim's fierce loyalty, would he be able to put the mission before the men? Would he be able to leave Tony to die, to complete the mission?

Gibbs let Tony think, meanwhile pulling from a cardboard box several dark wooden blocks. They were about 3 inches wide in both directions, and about 6 inches tall. Gibbs layed them out on the table in the middle of the basement, then gathered the appropriate tools for what he would be constructing. He then picked up the Rook that Kort had given him, and stood it up on the corner of the table. He leaned in and stared intently at it.

"Whatcha making Boss?"

Gibbs ignored the question.

"You are the hunter; Orion, I mean. But McGee… he's the castle. The Rook. Steadfast, true, solid, and unwavering. He's the pillar."

DiNozzo looked at him confused.

"You will hunt, DiNozzo. But, McGee will be your home. He's going to keep you grounded. I know how you can let emotions take over. That's a good thing when you're passionate about catching a murderer, but you need to be… cold. You need to be brutal. Cold and calculated."

"Like Bond?"

"Exactly Tony. Like James Bond. 007 never thought twice about pulling the trigger and using what was provided for him. He was an opportunistic constructivist."

"Did Kort get in your head Boss? Now you're using big words." Tony chuckled.

"Take what you've learned DiNozzo. Everything you've learned, and apply it to the moment, when you're out there. Don't think, don't feel. Just shoot."

Tony gave a deep breath, trying to rid his nerves of the anxiety he felt. He wasn't worried too much about his performance on the Op, but of McGee's. McGee had only just recently rid himself of hesitation when pulling the trigger in the field. Could Tony trust him to get the job done when necessary? Or worse, would Tony's life end, because of any hesitation McGee may have? Tony shook his head, trying and failing to quell the thought.

Gibbs tossed the younger agent a little wooden saw. And, as if he had been inside the younger agent's mind, spoke words of comfort.

"McGee will have your back. He'll be fine. You'll be fine. Trust him, and trust yourself. Now help be cut these blocks."

Tony smiled. It felt like it was the first genuine smile he'd had in weeks.

"Aye aye cap!"

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><p><strong>Ok, so NVA is a reference to the North Vietnamese Army. I don't really recall what conflicts Gibbs was in as a sniper, but I figured because Mark Harmon is 60, that puts Gibbs about in the range of Vietnam. If that's incorrect, let me know, or just kinda ignore that. <strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**WARNING: Contains very explicit language and torture. Sorry if the language seems very vulgar, but I have to think that during what Ethan is experiencing, expletives will be used quite often.**

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><p>Mikhailov barked harshly in Russian into his satellite phone. On the other end, was a contact with an international private military contracting company. They owed him favors. After a brief exchange of information, specifically the whereabouts of where the two other agents would surface, he snapped the phone shut. Ethan was seated at the bloody table, a deep crimson strip of gauze wrapped tight around his left hand. He breathed deeply, terrified at what could have happened to him.<p>

**Xxx Flashback xxX**

"Ok! Ok!" Ethan panted, tears rolling down his face as Mikhailov held his arm down and Fuchs readied the needle.

"Ok, there are two agents. Caucasian. The C.I.A. is sending them."

"Names?"

"I don't know."

"Damnit! Fucking names Ethan!"

"I don't know! Look, I see the syringe, if I knew their names, I'd fucking tell you!"

"I vant the names."

"I. Do. Not. Know. I do know their callsigns."

"Vat are they?"

"There's Orion. He's approximately six foot. And Rook is 6'2''."

"Vhere vill they be?"

"China."

"China, is a large country, Ethan. Do not test my patience."

"Sham Shui Po District. Hong Kong. The Kowloon Corridor."

"Vhy so far?"

"That's just the insertion point. The Agency knows you run a tight ship."

Mikhailov swelled with pride. While he wanted more information, this already would be sufficient for defense. But, he'd still torture Ethan, then probably kill him later, after he'd used him for more information.

"Vill they be coming here?"

"I don't know."

"I vill ask you one more time. Fuchs!"

At that, Fuchs grinned, his eyes gleaming with ecstatic anticipation. He squirted the syringe, ridding the needle of trace oxygen from the virus.

"Shit, I fucking told you enough already!"

"Vill they be coming here!" Mikhailov screamed.

Ethan struggled against the two guards, who held him flush against his chair and his arm against the table. Sweat beaded on his brow and he shook. Mikhailov formed a fist, and with enough force to knock a hole through a car window, punched Ethan in the face. Arti, who had been calmly lounging on a chair in the corner, sat up. While she had known torture before, she was shocked at Mikhailov. His psychological methods of taking pieces of his victims bodies. The fact that he had forced Ethan to put his own finger in his pocket. The HIV cocktail that would prove an entire lifespan of torture. Mikhailov, in terms of torture, was a genius. She felt sorry for the American. But, work was work. And the money Mikhailov promised her was good.

"I don't know if they're coming here." Ethan spat blood and tongued a loose tooth.

"Damnit Ethan! Alright, Fuchs!"

Ethan struggled, as Fuchs grasped his wrist and spun his arm, expertly snapping an elastic tourniquet around his bicep. His veins bulged under the pressure. Fuchs picked up the needle again, and began to move painfully slow towards Ethan's arm.

"Jesus Fucking Christ! Fuck You! Fuck You! Aaaaahrrrrgg Mikhailov! Stop! Stop!"

The needle drew closer. Inch by inch.

"You fucking piece of shit! You fucking monster! Fuck You! I don't fucking know!" Ethan screamed in terror.

The needle drew closer still. Centimeter by centimeter.

"Ok! Shit! I'll tell you! Just get that fucking creep away from me! Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ. You fucking monster! I'll *cough* tell you."

Mikhailov smiled. The needle was a mere millimeters away from Ethan's arm. Fuchs frowned, paused for a moment, then sat dejectedly on a chair by Arti, who made cooing noises to him.

"Ok" Ethan panted "They will be coming here. But honest to God, I don't know anything else. They'll be here soon. Fuck. Not today, or tomorrow, but soon. Well, that's the plan. Jesus Christ, you're an asshole."

Mikhailov patted Ethan's sweat soaked hair as he laughed.

"Ve vill keep you detained. But, as I know about agents in your field, you must check in. Maybe contact the other agent's. I want to know when you do it. Or else, I will let Fuchs have a time at you."

Ethan gulped.

**Xxx End Flashback xxX**

"Vell Ethan, ve are in luck. I know some people in Sham Shui Po. They vill take care of your friends. And as far as you are concerned, you vill continue to vork vith The Index. You are the best tech I have. But you vill be under constant supervision by another tech, and Dima here."

The large Russian crossed his arms over his chest, smiling at Ethan.

"And if you try to betray me again…" Mikhailov leaned close, "Dima will cut off all your fingers, gouge out your eyes and will leave you to wander in the jungle at night. How does that sound? Wild animals are always eager for an easy meal." Ethan cleared his throat.

"Sounds like I have no choice but to go along with your plan."

"Good boy. Dima! Bring Ethan back to his station in the temple. Don't rough him up too much on the way."

Dima's strong arm wrapped around Ethan's waist, and the smaller man was literally thrown through the tent flaps and into the mud. He could hear soldiers laughing.

* * *

><p>As they walked (between the pauses and the beatings that Dima inflicted on him, of course) Ethan racked his brain. <em>I need to figure something out to keep those agents safe. I gave away their info, but I can't betray them completely. There are necessary evils to commit. Feed the hounds, but keep them at bay. They'd understand when I tell them. If I even see their sorry asses. Whichever tech is watching me will have no idea what I'm doing. I'll move too fast. Well, with only nine fingers. I need to take that risk, because those agent's, who were they again? McGee and DiNozzo? Yeah, they looked like nice guys. I only hope I can help them without Mikhailov realizing it.<em>

* * *

><p>Ethan was forced into the folding chair in front of multiple computer monitors deep within the temple. Wires and cables wound their way through the passageways, and little flickering lights illuminated the dark interior. Mikhailov, while seemingly just a thug with power, was incredibly smart. He had (through one of the many contacts he had), coerced the Bornean government into allowing him to use the temple for his operation. He emphasized, with charts, graphs, and facts, that he was running testing on the correlation of current natural disasters and the hieroglyphics within the temple. He, with the explanations from Fuchs (posing as an archeologist), that the certain temple held as much prophetic evidence to natural disasters and the condition of the planet as the Mayan calendar. Mikhailov flexed his cunning, and the Bornean government conceded.<p>

"Alright, let's boot this up." Ethan whispered to himself as the other tech, who was shaking in fear at Dima's presence, pulled up a folding chair behind the agent. Dima leaned against the stone wall and lit a cigarette.

The multiple computer screens illuminated with coding, and Ethan began typing. He ran a search for the trojan horse that he had planted, as well as inspecting the security firewall and its current state. _Everything seems alright. Those agents better hack this bitch when the time comes._

"Vat are you doing?" Dima asked as he took a drag from the cigarette and leaned over Ethan's shoulder.

"I'm making sure the security systems are in order."

"Then vat vill you do?"

"Run coding to ensure our connection with the baseplates."

"Vhy?"

"Because The Index needs to be connected."

"Vhy?" Ethan cringed. _All these goddamn questions. Jesus, get your fucking bad breath out of my face!_

"Well, whatever The Index is, it needs to have an established direct connection with The Pentagon, The Kremlin, London, Germany. You know."

"I do not know. Do you know vat The Index is?"

"As I told your boss, I don't. I'm just the messenger… So, Dima, do you know what The Index is?"

Dima paused and snorted smoke into Ethan's face.

"Nyet."

"Really?" Ethan mocked surprise. "What, Mikhailov doesn't trust you with that knowledge."

"Leo trusts me!" Dima exclaimed.

"Well, if you're close enough to call him by 'Leo', I thought you'd know what The Index was. No matter."

"Vhy you ask?"

"Just wondering." Dima grasped Ethan's folding chair in his enormous hands and spun the C.I.A. tech until he was facing the large russian.

"Vhy?"

"Well, I don't want to make you mad. Trust me, I don't. You got one helluva left hook." Dima chuckled, nodding proudly to himself.

"But I just figured that since you're… _Leo's_ right hand man, you'd know. And hell, Mikhailov seems really emotional. I guess it's no secret that I work for The Agency now, but I've seen successful groups like Mikhailovs. He's too emotional. Now you, Dima, if you were in charge, I think this would go completely different."

Dima looked intently at Ethan, weighing what he had said.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure you enjoy being a right hand man. You know, second on the totem pole, but you seem to be more of a 'no bullshit' type, while Mikhailov puts up with alot. I mean, look at me. While I don't want to go near that crazy son of a bitch Fuchs again, I will say, it's odd that my cover is blown, and yet I'm still given access to The Index."

Dima cocked his head to the side, then burst out laughing.

"You know Ethan, I hate that German too! He's crazy!" Ethan smiled inwardly, knowing his plan was working.

"I know! I mean, the fucker practically gets off to medical torture. I mean, there's men like you. You, Dima, seem to be an opportunist. I don't approve totally of what you're doing, but you gotta put food on the table somehow right?"

"Da! Yes!" The enormous Russian was all smiles as he realized this American understood.

"You gotta do what you gotta do I guess. But hell Dima, even though you beat me outside. A few times. You're alright."

"Alright?"

"Yeah, you're good. You're alright."

"You're alright too, Ethan."

"Thanks big man. But seriously, what the hell factory were you built in?" Ethan took a chance and reached out, squeezing the Russian's enormous bicep.

"I mean, you're enormous! I bet you could take on this whole encampment by yourself! I saw the other guys. No match for badass Dima over here." Ethan looked at the other tech as he yanked a thumb in the beaming Russian's direction. The tech simply shook from fear.

"Alright, well I better get to work. Don't want Leo to tell you to beat me again." Ethan swiveled back to the computers and began typing away. Dima stared at Ethan, confused and wondering why he was taking a liking to Ethan.

* * *

><p><strong>Uh oh, what is Ethan planning? <strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Alrighty, so I'm uploading at the speed that I've wanted to for a while! Sorry if I kept you waiting. Chapter 10, woohoo! The Op is coming soon. Trust me :)**

**Warning: Contains Language**

**Again, I do not own Anything. Not even the car I drive, really...**

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><p>"Alright gentlemen, we all set? McGee you got MTAC connected to the coms and visuals?" Kort asked as McGee banged his head against the underside of the desk in MTAC that he was under.<p>

"Almost."

While McGee was busy establishing a direct feed from the MTAC monitors to the communication and visual devices that he and DiNozzo would be carrying, Kort, some Agency technicians, and the rest of Gibbs team (minus Abby, Ducky and Palmer) were standing, watching as everything was prepared. Director Vance stood off to the side, monitoring the progress. A table had been brought into MTAC, and all the tech equipment the two agents would be using was laid out neatly.

"Alright Kort. And Boss, got it. I'll connect Tony's eye-cam to the main screen to see if it's working correctly. With a brisk typing on the computer, the main large screen snapped to the view of Tony's eye-camera as it lay upon the table. Immediately, Tony grabbed it, and aimed it at the screen, creating a screen within a screen within a screen and so on.

"Aaaaah Probie it's a blaaack hoooooole." DiNozzo laughed. He then aimed it at Gibbs, whose face shone over all of them from the enormous main screen.

"Say something for the camera Boss! Like, who's your favorite agent?"

Gibbs snatched the camera from his agent and smacked the back of his head.

"Right Boss. Not a toy Boss."

Kort stood from one of the chairs and cleared his throat.

"Alright, now that we're connected, my techs will run the tests. You'll see this equipment again on the plane McGee and Tony. I advise you… say your goodbyes now. We are needed at Bolling Air Force Base shortly. We need to familiarize you with some specific tactics and procedures."

The team nodded, and filed out of MTAC as Kort held the door open. Gibbs pulled out his phone, punched a number and waited a moment.

"Hey Abbs? Yeah, can you tell Duck and Palmer to meet in the conference room? Thanks."

* * *

><p>In the conference room, Gibbs, Vance, Tony, Tim, and Ziva stood awkwardly, none of them wanting to say goodbye first. They all turned when they heard the door click and watched as Abby, Ducky, the Palmer entered. Abby and Palmer both looked confused.<p>

"What's going on Gibbs?" Abby asked, a look of concern on her face. Gibbs walked over to her and gave her a squeeze, kissing her cheek as he did so.

"McGee and DiNozzo are… going to be gone for a little while. Kort needs their help."

"Kort? Trent Kort?" She exclaimed, then marched over to the two agents and punched each of them in the arm.

"Ow!"

"Damnit Abbs!"

"Serves you both right for keeping secrets! How long will you be gone? Where are you going? When will you be coming back? I better get postcards!" The two agents rubbed their bruising arms and looked to Gibbs to explain. He took a step forward and spoke to the three who had just entered.

"McGee and DiNozzo are doing an Op for Kort. It's… classified. Hell, I don't even know all of what's going on. But we'll be in contact through MTAC. Everyone here, but myself are on a 'need to know' basis. But I'll keep you all informed. Yes, it's dangerous."

Gibbs saw as Ziva shifted uneasily to McGee's side, wrapped her arms around his and pressed her nose to his shoulder. He kissed the top of her hair as he entangled his fingers with hers.

"I will keep you all informed. But they have to go with Kort now."

The group understood that this meant goodbye. Immediately Abby flung herself on the two agents pulling them into a group hug, practically knocking Ziva down in the process.

"Awwww I'm going to miss you guys! Tony, keep Timmy safe! Timmy, keep Tony safe! You better have each other's asses." Gibbs grimaced and shook his head.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I meant like, have each others' backs. Wow, even that sounds wrong. Just be safe, k? I love you boys."

Tony and Tim hugged her back, both mumbling 'love you too' and 'we will' to her. Gibbs, finally able to wrench Abby away from the two agents, nodded to Ducky and Palmer.

"Well well, my boys, I do wish you the best of luck, although luck has nothing to do with it. Trust your instincts, and be confident in each other, my dearest fellows. You know, something like this reminds me of a time when I, back in England of course…"

"Be safe Agent McGee and DiNozzo. I ummm, you'll do great. Be safe. Come back to us." Palmer slightly stuttered, and the two, even Tony, were touched by the sincerity in his voice.

Finally, McGee turned to Ziva. They held each others' hands, their foreheads touching. They spoke in hushed whispers, not because they were afraid of others hearing, but the feeling that if they spoke too loud, the moment would crumble.

"Be safe, Tim."

"I will Zee. I'll come back to you safe."

"You better. I love you so much."

"I love you Zee."

"Ah well hell, I want some sugar!" Tony interrupted them, leapt over a chair and pulled Abby into a deep passionate kiss that resembled the photo from World War 2 of the navy man kissing the nurse in New York. Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Wooo-ooooh Tooooony!" Abby gasped.

"Yeah Abs?" Tony grinned. Vance cleared his throat as the two couples separated reluctantly. They walked over to the Director, who held out a hand to each of them in turn. They shook it as he spoke.

"Gentlemen, this is an opportunity for you to show what NCIS Agents are made of. Keep your head on a swivel, eyes open, and don't trust the shadows. I'm proud of you gentlemen."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Thanks Director."

Vance nodded and opened the door. Tony, Tim and Gibbs left through it and were joined by Kort, who walked them out of the building. Vance figured he'd spend a little time with what was left of Gibbs teams and the other valuable members.

* * *

><p>As soon as they reached the limousine that was parked out front, Gibbs turned to his boys. Kort saw this, and stepped into the limo to give them privacy. Gibbs cleared his throat and looked around before he finally spoke.<p>

"You boys be safe. Keep in touch, as you can. And get it done. Don't think about it when you're over there, just do it. And trust each other with everything. I can't tell you how proud I am of you and what you've become. Now just come home safely."

"Will do Boss."

"Yeah Gibbs."

The two outstretched their hands for a handshake and Gibbs looked at their palms pensively. He grit he teeth, resisted his fatherly feelings, and took both their hands in a firm handshake. He nodded to each of them, making eye contact with blue, then green eyes. And without skipping a beat, he turned and walked back to NCIS. The two agents watched after him, then slowly stepped into the limo.

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><p><strong>Reviews take only a moment, and I'll love you forever :)<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Hmmm tried to upload yesterday, but kept getting a message saying there was something wrong with my file... but now it works. odd. but yeah chapter 11!**

**WARNING: Language**

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><p>The rest of the day was filled with preparations for the Op at Bolling Air Force Base. Parachute and jump procedures. Equipment orientation. Firearm and explosive ordinance introduction and adjustment. Both agents excelled without problem, remembering the steps, hints and tricks, and advice that the C.I.A. agents gave them. More than once they were faced with "Well if you boys ever want to work for The Agency, look me up." They nodded thanks, then continued on with their training. They worked together to learn, Tony calming McGee in everything airborne, and McGee keeping Tony focused on the little intricate details of their equipment and its proper functioning. They were not just partners anymore, but developing into a highly functioning, lethal and efficient Agency team.<p>

Before either of them knew it, they were both laying on their backs in the bunks in the private room provided for them at Bollinger. It wasn't incredibly late, but they would have to be up in less than six hours. Both knew they needed their rest in preparation for this Op, but the solace of unconsciousness could not be found by either of the men.

"Gaaaah!" Tony groaned as he reached up and rubbed his eyes.

"Can't sleep Tony?"

"No, you?"

"Nope."

"At least we're both awake Probie. I'd hate this even more if you were snoring."

McGee chuckled. Despite his recumbent position, his heart was racing.

"You think we'll be ok, Tony?" Tony's ears perked at the question and he propped himself up on one elbow, facing his roommate.

"Yeah of course Tim, why do you ask?"

"I dunno. It's just that… this is going to be really dangerous. And I know we're good in the field, but this? This is a Black Op. This is the type of stuff SAD does."

"SAD?"

"Special Activities Division. C.I.A. Special Ops. I don't know Tony, I'm just… scared."

Tony looked at his partner intently.

"We'll be fine Tim. We got each other on this. It's not like you're going alone. You got me, bud."

"I know, it's just that… I don't know, I feel like you'll be fine. You're built for this kind of stuff. I'm just-"

"Just McGee? If the last few months have shown you anything, you're not fucking 'just McGee' Tim."

"Thanks Tony."

"And you better believe that by now."

"I do. I just… think sometimes if something happens to us. You know, I… just want to hold Ziva again. Hell, if we get back safely, I'm going to hug Gibbs."

"Really? You wanna do a group hug? I think he'd have an aneurism."

McGee laughed quielty, thinking about his beautiful girlfriend who, for the first time in months, would have to sleep alone tonight. _I hope she doesn't have to sleep without me ever again._

"By the way McGoo. I never got to congratulate you on dating the ninja. I know you two are perfect. I'm proud of you Probie. Guess this means I can't torment you and your love life so much anymore." Tony sighed as he settled back into the bed.

"I'm sorry Tony." Groaning, Tony sat up again.

"For what McGee? For Ziva?"

"Yeah. I mean, I know that you two flirted all the time. And, I dunno, we didn't really talk back then. Heart to heart, you know? I never knew if you had feelings for her. And I'm sorry if you did, and now… it is the way it is now."

Tony swung out of his bed and took a seat on McGee's bed.

"Look McGee, I'll be honest. Yeah, I did have feelings for her a while back. Any idiot could have seen that. But as I grew older, and we all worked together longer, I realized she's not what I want. And I'm not what she wants. You are. I mean, I felt a little burn when you got together, but I see her more as a best friend now. A best friend who can kill me with a paperclip. But Ziva and I… we're just not compatible, and I understand that now. It would never work, as a long term, serious thing. I know I'm not the smartest with relationships, but I know what works, and what doesn't. You and her work, she and I don't. That's a fact. She needs someone solid. Someone consistent and unchanging. That's you, Tim. And hell, I approve."

Tony patted McGee's knee and jumped back into his own bed.

"I better be your best man though. I will plan THEE greatest bachelor party of all time."

McGee chuckled as he settled into the blankets. He smiled to himself, quietly nodding thanks to the good friends he had.

"Thanks Tony. That means more than you know."

"You're welcome McGoo. Now let me get my sleep. DiNozzos aren't good on little sleep."

* * *

><p>Tony reached ahead of him, placed a hand on McGee's shoulder and squeezed. Through the eye-cam, Gibbs, Kort, Vance, and even Ducky watched from DiNozzo's view as he comforted his friend within the aircraft. McGee's camera was focused on the rear gate.<p>

"We're gonna be good McGoo! Just remember, if you don't jump when that light turns green, I'm gonna kick your ass out of the plane. But remember, it's with LOOOOOOVE!" Tony called over the drone of the C-130 propellors. Gibbs chuckled. McGee simply nodded.

They were just over 35,000 feet above the surface of the earth, about to engage in a HALO jump. High Altitude, Low Opening, the jump instructor had called it. Tony remembered how McGee grew pale at the 'low opening' part. Because of the immense altitude, and the risk of nitrogen poisoning, both agents were attached to 100% oxygen feeds through their jump helmets. McGee's eyes had lit up when he saw them, exclaiming that he felt like a 'space marine' or something. Tony shook his head as he stared at the back of McGee's helmet, both their O2 hoses running into a pipe in the wall of the C-130. This was part of their pre-breathing period. It was 30-45 minutes of complete oxygen so that they could fight decompression sickness on the way down.

"You boys all set? We got some time left. God, I never thought I'd see you two again!"

Dawkins, the C-130 gate operator from their trip to Somalia, came up behind Tony and began tightening straps and inspecting him.

"Yeah Dawk," Tony replied, "Good to see you again. Sorry about the whole jeep thing again."

Dawkins shrugged as he finished his inspection of Tony's equipment and moved on to McGee. They were outfitted with the best jump and tactical gear The Agency and S.O.G. had to offer. They were strapped into HALO jump harnesses, kevlar tactical vests, kneepads, high altitude jump helmets (that looked like something from a sci-fi movie, much to McGee's delight). Tony had an M4 standard issue assault rifle slung across his back, and McGee had an MP5 submachine gun. Both were outfitted with silencers. On their thighs were strapped Sig Sauer combat pistols. They both wore tactical watches and altimeters on their wrists, as well as shooting gloves. In every essence of their images, they were high caliber soldiers.

"No biggie. Just glad you and ole' faithful here made it. You know I slipped in his blood in the cargo bay? Damn near broke my leg! Can't believe you didn't die, McGee. You're a fighter, that's for damn sure. By the way, I know you're gonna hate me for this, but five minutes till drop. Deep breaths of that O2 gentlemen. Don't wanna get all fucked up when your boots touch dirt."

Hercules Seven-Four, the same C-130 that dropped the agents off in Somalia, then proved their savior and rescued them, cruised along into restricted Chinese airspace.

"Yeah, so we had to inform the Chinese Air Force that were were doing some hurricane or weather data collection. Or some shit." Dawkins chuckled as he disconnected the agents' hoses from the wall. "Hold your breath please."

He then unscrewed the entire hose from the bottom of the agents' masks, and replaced them with an oxygen tank with a 30 minute supply.

"This will have a half hour of O2. Unless you hyperventilate like McGee here, then you only got about 2 minutes. Calm down Probie!" Dawkins called. He then turned to Tony, and exchanged a high five.

"Thanks Dawk, I needed that." DiNozzo grinned.

"No problem Tony. Ok, so I've double checked all your equipment. You have everything you need. Remember, just drop your jump equipment where you land. Or, out of the way at least. We got an agent who's gonna clean up after you. So when you hit the ground, just take what you need, copy?"

"Copy."

"Copy."

"Beautiful!"

* * *

><p>The five minutes passed with idle talking between Dawkins and Tony. McGee stood quietly, keeping to himself amongst the dim red glow of the cargo hold of Hercules Seven-Four. He took deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves as he stared through the double tempered plexiglass of his helmet. The deep breaths really weren't working too well, but he knew what he had to do. And when it came down to it, even though he was afraid, he would jump. He glanced at the altimeter gauge on his wrist, which read 34,092 ft. They were descending slightly. <em>God, 6 and a half miles up…<em>

"Attention! Attention! All Aboard! Prepare for gate breach." The captain's voice boomed from the speaker system. McGee jumped.

"Alright fellas! Here we go!" Dawkins called as he punched the big red button. With a familiar shriek, the rear cargo gate of the plane opened. McGee almost expected a similar sight as Somalia to stream through; one of dusty sunlight. But all that was behind the plane was the deep dark blue night sky with a thick cloud carpet. Not only was this his first jump, but it was raining in the Sham Shui Po District too.

With a firm pat on the shoulder, Tony nudged McGee. They both began walking slowly down the gate towards the opening as the stars twinkled in front of them and a freezing wind swirled through the cargo bay. McGee felt like Darth Vader by the way his voice sounded.

"Alright boys, remember! You'll be looking for a large field between two big abandoned refineries. If you remember everything they told you at The Agency, you won't miss them. T-minus 20 seconds and you jump. Perfect trajectory based on altitude, wind, and the earth's spin!"

20, 19, 18…

_You can do this Tim, You can do this. Show Tony that you're not afraid. Show everyone you're not afraid. _

17, 16, 15…

_Ok, so you are afraid. I'm not afraid to admit that. But I'm gonna do it. Even if Tony has to kick me in the ass._

14, 13, 12…

McGee made his way down the gate till he was about 5 feet from it. He'd been taught to take a running start, jump, outstretch his limbs, nose dive but stay rigid, then allow his velocity to keep his belly to the ground and his back to the sky. McGee bent his knees to balance himself on the gate of the C-130.

11, 10, 9…

Tony made a fist and bounced it repeatedly on McGee's shoulder.

"We got this McGee! We got this!"

8, 7, 6…

"Come on Tim, we got this! Let's fucking take care of this shit!"

5, 4, 3, 2…

_Deep breaths Tim, let's go. Let's fuckin' do this._

1…

A bright green light illuminated the entire fuselage of the enormous plane and McGee hesitated. Dawkins saw this and called out.

"Go Go Go! Get off my goddamn plane!"

"Let's go McGoo!" Tony yelled as he squared up on one leg, and kicked McGee in the ass. That did the trick. McGee snapped out of it, stumbled forward, then jumped. Tony glanced at Dawkins, gave him a smile, then ran and jumped out of the plane into the blackness behind his friend.


	12. Chapter 12

**Gaaah! So i'm having soooo much fun writing this! I hope you're enjoying reading it too. It's picking up a little bit. I apologize if it kinda dragged a little in the beginning, I just wanted to make sure I explained everything that needed to happen prior to the Op. **

**But, I realized I made a huge mistake. Every military mission has a name. Totally forgot all about that. So Tony and Tim's Op will be called Operation Blackbird. **

**WARNING: Language**

**And, as always, I don't own NCIS or its characters, and reviews are loved! :)**

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><p>McGee gasped as his entire body tensed when the freefall began. At first, aside from the cold wind rushing past his body, he didn't feel like he was falling. Below him was the thick blanket of clouds, but it didn't seem like he was getting any closer to them. It looked like some barren snowy field. Then, his heart leapt into his throat as his body continued rotating forwards. He began to flail his arms and legs as he slowly and painfully continued his front flip. He caught sight of Tony above him as soon as his belly was to the sky. Behind and far above Tony was Hercules Seven-Four. He could barely make out Tony waving to him. Before he knew it, he was back in the correct position, stopped flailing, and stayed in the appropriate stomach down position. <em>Phew, that was insane! I did a front flip! I wonder if Tony saw?<em> And then, through his intercom, he heard Gibbs via the communication connection in MTAC.

"Dammit McGee! No more front flips!" McGee nodded, knowing that those in MTAC (who were holding their collective breaths) could see through his eye-cam perched on his skullcap at his temple. Even Vance, though he'd never admit it, balled his hands into strong fists out of nervousness when McGee flipped. But, now that he'd regained control of his free fall, MTAC relaxed.

Tony had seen McGee somersault, and as soon as his partner regained his composure, the older agent burst out laughing.

"Wooo McAcrobat!" Tony called as he pulled his limbs closer to his body to catch up to McGee. Soon he was about 50 yards from his friend, and the two entered the cloud cover.

Immediately, drops of condensation formed on their facemasks, and they were able to really see how fast they were going as the rain whipped by. Terminal Velocity. And almost as quickly as it had begun, both agents began hearing a loud repetitive beeping in their ears. McGee remembered his training. _Ok, repetitive beeping means almost at chute altitude. Solid tone means-_

He was cut off by the solid tone piercing his eardrums. And the AAD (Automatic Activation Device) engaged. McGee felt like he had been hit by a truck as the chute expanded behind him, caught air, and yanked him to a slower speed. He was still in the cloud cover and wrenched his head to the left and right, trying to see where Tony was. As if on cue, McGee heard Tony through his intercom.

"Right behind you Probie. Jesus that was fucking great! Altimeter says 2,731 feet. According to the GPS, we're right where we need to be, heading in the right direction. The clearing should be to the north of us, right where the wind is taking us."

Tony watched as McGee dangled ungracefully below his chute, and couldn't help but smile. _I told that punk that I'd take him skydiving._

Soon the clouds gave way, and below them was the Sham Shui Po district. Even from their altitude at 2,000 feet they could tell how run down it was. Smoke billowed from smokestacks and the Chinese neon signs were lucky if more than half of their characters were illuminated. But still, in an odd way, it was beautiful. With the rain cascading down around them, it gave the dark city a romantic feel. They sailed stealthily over Kowloon Corridor and Sham Shui Po, aiming for the clearing just north of them.

"Alright Tony, there's our LZ. East side of Kam Shan Country Park. Almost there Tony, ah Orion. Almost there."

"Gotcha McRook."

The two continued their quiet descent, while those in MTAC watched, impressed. None of them could have ever anticipated seeing either of them in this type of situation, and now, with the assistance of the audio and visual feed at NCIS, they truly saw what their boys were made of. Ziva smiled softly, despite her rapidly beating heart. _That is my man, right there._

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><p>As the wooded and grassy Kam Shan Country Park rose up to meet them, the agents, deceivingly based on their skill, professionally pulled the chords attached to the parachutes to slow their descent, just before touching down. When McGee landed, he unceremoniously slipped and fell on his butt, the wind in his chute dragging him a few yards. Tony, who burst out laughing at McGee, forgot to attend to his chords and slammed into the ground and rolled past McGee. Still, without uttering a word as soon as the earth was under their feet, they quickly disconnected from the chuted, rid themselves of all unnecessary jump gear, and hefted their weapons to their cheeks as they crouched.<p>

"Hercules Seven-Four, we have successful touchdown. Equipment is stored at 22.347575 North, 114.160223 West, Copy?"

"Copy Rook." Dawkins voice came from the the receiver, and both men began their four kilometer covert trek to the abandoned apartment building.

"Nice landing gentlemen." Kort's voice came over their earpieces. "We will be maintaining radio silence from here on out until you reach the 'Destrallius' and rendezvous with Skrill, how copy?"

"Radio silence until Skrill and 'Destrallius'. Got it." McGee spoke back as he and Tony began their trek through the vegetation towards their destination.

Tony took up the front as point man as they dodged car headlights, and any illuminated areas as they traversed along the West side of Tai Po Road, on the East side of Sham Shui Po. Cars sloshed along in the rain to their left as they hugged the soggy embankment under cover of the dripping foliage. As they proceeded, their hearts pounded rapidly.

_Gibbs was right, this is nothing like a raid or NCIS Op, _Tony thought to himself as he swept his assault rifle in front of him. The words 'no backup' echoed within his head like an ominous drum. He took a deep breath and plunged onward through the bushes until they reached one of their checkpoints: Shueng Li Uk Garden. At the garden, they took a right through a filth filled alleyway.

"Woh Ton- er Orion! You see that rat?" McGee chimed, breathing hard. Tony shuddered. He hated rats. Ever since his run in with the anonymous letter that contained bubonic plague, he hated them. McGee chuckled, remembering their time aboard the "Chimera", where Tony confessed his 'irrational' fear.

"Damnit, Kort? We need to abort."

"Damnit Orion! Radio silence! Abort? Why?" Kort snapped.

"You said nothing about rats!" Tony shot back.

In MTAC, Kort looked at the screen with DiNozzos eye-cam with a confused expression, as the agent focused on every dark place a rat could hide in the alley. Slowly, Kort turned to Gibbs, expecting an explanation. Gibbs simply smiled slightly and shrugged, shaking his head. Kort shook his head as well.

"Orion, radio silence."

"Copy Kort, Master of the rat people."

Even though radio silence was back in effect, Tim and Tony both heard several stifled laughs emanating from MTAC.

The two agents sloshed through the garbage piled against the walls of the alley until McGee, who had pulled out the GPS tablet provided for them for orientation, found where they were and where there destination was to be.

"Alright damn, Orion. Not getting used to this. Here's the place."

McGee looked to his right, and a few meters in front of them, along an eroded brick wall, was a solid steel door that was patched with rust and grime. On it was a red placard with exclamation points and a crude picture of a building with cracks in it. Tony pulled from his tactical vest a pair of bolt cutters, and swiftly snapped off the padlock. McGee grasped the edges of it as Tony scanned up and down the empty alleyway for any life (specifically rats). With a creak, McGee had the door open, clicked on the flashlight attached to the foregrip of his submachine gun, and headed inside. Tony took one final look behind him, then stepped into the condemned building, pulling the door shut behind him.

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><p><strong>Yes, as I promised, the Op FINALLY began! Wooo! <strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for the reviews! Much love. Chapter 13! Woohoo!**

**Contains: Language**

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><p><em>Ok, they should be in Sham Shui Po by now. I gotta get this out to them. Ok… Ok….<em>

Ethan tapped away at his keyboard as anxiety took over him. The other computer technician dosed behind him. Dima had stepped out and was patrolling the halls and interrogating the other techs. Once or twice Ethan heard what sounded like a chair slamming into the wall, some pleading, and then what sounded like a fist fight. _Glad that ain't me. Anymore_, Ethan thought to himself. _Good thing the big guy likes me now. With him questioning everything I do, I would never be able to get this message to McGee and DiNozzo. _

Dima had even left some cigarettes for Ethan. While the agent wasn't a smoker by definition, he would occasionally when he was stressed. At this point, it was way beyond stressed. A half smoked cigarette perched on Ethan's lips as he took a drag, expelling the smoke through his nose. The only sound he could hear was his typing, the flickering of the lights within the murky temple halls, and the occasional 'Dima Dance Party' as he called the beatings.

His computer was directly linked to the laptop the McGee had, and using source code derivatives and and a stand alone encryption program, once McGee's computer was turned on, Ethan would have private access to it. Or, at least its coding.

_Come on McGee, let's get this going, Dima will be back soon._

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><p>McGee and DiNozzo wound their way up the stairway to their destination. The Agency had already infiltrated the apartment and left them the device for direct contact with Ethan's computer. According to Kort, it would be in the wall, behind a Chinese symbol that looked like a house on a boat.<p>

"Jesus, all those bleachers and my legs are still burning from these stairs. How much further?" Tony complained.

"Just a few more levels Tony." McGee, leading with his submaching gun, illuminated the dim stairwell. Finally, he pushed open the door leading to the appropriate floor, nudged the nose of his gun out of it, then swung the door open as Tony followed him. They faced opposite directions, scanning the dirty and wet hallways.

"Clear."

"Clear. Alright Orion, this way." McGee jogged slowly down the hall. Upon reaching apartment number 549A, McGee jiggled the handle, and pushed the door open. They swiftly searched the dirty one bedroom apartment for anyone who may be inside, and after concluding they were alone, McGee took off his backpack and began preparing the computer. Tony closed the door and locked it, then pulled out a piece of paper with a printed image of the Chinese symbol the connection device would be behind.

"All these symbols look the same! Probie, help me with this. I can read english, not Chinese graffiti."

"It's Mandarin, Tony." McGee corrected as he unfolded a rusty metal chair next to the table his laptop was on and began helping Tony look for the symbol.

"This is like, Chinese 'Where's Waldo', except when you don't fear for your life and carry a gun when you read it."

"You don't read 'Where's Waldo' Tony."

"There are some words McLiteral!"

McGee simply groaned as he paced along the walls.

"Got it!" He exclaimed. "Alright, break the wall."

"What, do I look big and green? But unlike the hulk, my pants are always coming off. Heyo McGoo!" Tony raised his hand to high five McGee, but the younger agent simply shook his head, leaving Tony's hand in the air as he took a seat at the computer.

"Damn, never leave a high five unslapped."

"You didn't earn it."

"It was clever!"

"Alright alright." Tony's charm worked, and he received the desired hugh five.

"That's more like it McGoo." Tony laughed as he took a step back, and forced his boot through the already crumbling wall. He immediately caught his foot on the stud as he tried to pull it out and fell into a heap on the ground.

"God damn trap door walls and dirty floors." Tony mumbled under his breath as he reached into the wall from his laying position. The device was just where he expected, and Tony pulled it out and set it on the table next to McGee's computer. McGee plugged the device into the side of the laptop, then reached into the backpack and pulled out a flashdrive that contained the 'Saint Elmo's Fire' virus. He promptly plugged the into the computer, and waited for his and Ethan's computer to connect.

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><p><em>Alright… Alright… Almost there. Jesus McGee get connected! Wait… wait…. There we go! Yeah McGee! Perfect timing! <em>

Ethan tapped away quickly, and sent the message. He nodded to himself, and was about to let his computer go idle and allow McGee to do his work, but then paused. _Wait a minute, I have access to the entire network here. I wonder if I can get into The Index. Find out what it is..._

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><p>"Oh shit Tony? Tony! We got a problem!" McGee gasped as he read the words Ethan had sent him.<p>

"Wow Probie, you cussed! I'm proud of you, you're growing-."

"Tony! Look at this!" McGee swiveled the computer till it faced DiNozzo. Tony let out a frightened gasp at the words he read on the screen.

/COMPROMISED/MIKHAILOV/MEN/IN/SHAMSHUIPO/COMPROMISED/

"Well son of a bitch Probie. We gotta go. Plant that thing and let's get the fuck out of here! I'll watch the door." Tony hefted his rifle as the adrenaline within him began to build, and turned to the door. Just as he placed his eye to the peephole. He heard a low metallic bang resonating from somewhere on the lower floors of the apartment building, and muffled Russian sounding voices.

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><p>Ethan began searching through the sea of green letters as he began to hack through encryption. He breathed a sigh of relief. <em>At least I got the message to McGee. Now let's see what this Index is.<em> After a few minutes, using a backdoor method to gain access to The Index, he pulled up it's information on the screen. He saw it. Ethan saw The Index.

Ethan didn't believe it at first. Through The Agency briefings, he had suspected The Index had been some massive arms deal, or underhanded funding of an anti-American extremist group by a U.S. ally. He even suspected something as severe as information regarding times and locations of a United States politician, perhaps for assassination. As Ethan read the information of what The Index was, goosebumps grew on his skin. Such was the horror of what he was looking at, he legitimately felt nauseous as he processed the truth of The Index. _Oh. My. God. I need to tell-_

"Ethan! What are you doing!"

Ethan turned, the cigarette falling from his lips as Dima stood behind him, an enraged look on his face. The smaller man cowered before the large Russian as he stepped towards the agent.

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><p><strong>Ok, so i'll admit, I was nervous as I wrote this. haha hope you enjoy this chapter and hope you're all having a wonderful weekend.<strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**Ok, so this is where the story connects with the first chapter. I've re-edited it and added some extra stuff, so don't just skim! :) hope you're enjoying it! **

**WARNING: Language**

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><p>"Hustle up Probie! I can hear them! Shit, can't believe we're fucking compromised. First goddamn Op and we're compromised. I blame you, McGee!" Tony hissed, trying to keep his voice down as he looked through the peephole in the door.<p>

"Yeah Tony. Okay… there we go! Five minute window is open! Let's do this." McGee spoke out loud, but more to himself. Tony slung his rifle behind him and pressed his eye closer to the peephole. All that was in the limited view was the grungy, dimly lit hallway they had just come out of.

Tim McGee tapped feverishly through fingerless black gloves at the computer, a black skullcap low on his head. He was seated at a creaky card table in a run down apartment that was littered with empty bottles and trash. Rats scurried to and fro, their shadows transforming them into enormous sizes on the walls. Chinese symbols in spray paint adorned the inside of the condemned one bedroom apartment. It was on a top level floor of an apartment building in the Sham Shui Po District in Hong Kong, China. Rain pattered against the cracked windows in droves, as the neon lights of the slums reflected glaringly against McGee's eyes. Precious minutes passed.

"Just a couple more levels." The agent whispered to himself, his submachine gun lay on the table next to the laptop he was working on. His fingers typed away as levels of encryption fell. _Access. I need access. I need to slow their operation. I need to plant this virus. They need to stop._

***ACCESS DENIED***

_Dammit! Maybe this will work._

***ACCESS DENIED* **

The letters blinked menacingly at him as sweat dripped off his nose. _They're gonna be here soon. We need to get out of here!_ He continued typing, now looking for a backdoor entrance through the weakened firewall. The deep greens of the screen flickered along against his pupils. _Damn, that Russian runs a tight ship._

"McGee! McGee, I can hear them coming down the halls! We gotta book it! You done?" Tony DiNozzo, clad in jeans, combat boots, a tactical vest over a tight black t-shirt, stood in front of the door of the apartment, his assault rifle slung around his back as he looked through the peephole.

"Yeah yeah, almost there. It would have helped if the Agency could have bought us a larger window of time."

The C.I.A., in assisting the two agent's operation, had infiltrated Mikhailov's firewall with a bug, that would render it weakened. Weak enough for McGee to plant the virus. Once the virus was planted, the C.I.A. Non-Official Cover Agent, Ethan Barnes, would activate it, allowing the Saint Elmo's Fire virus to render The Index inoperable. But the program Mikhailov and his computer technicians had concocted was designed to reset the firewall security systems every five minutes. A five minute window. It was their only shot. And McGee only had seconds left.

"Seriously Tim, and you know I only use your first name when I'm serious. We need to get the fuck out of here!"

"I know I know! I'm almost there." With unbridled focus, his fingers whisked over the keyboard.

"37 seconds McGee."

Harsh Russian voices came from the hall through the door. Loud thumping of boots, and clanking of firearms. The voices got louder, and the light of a flashlight replaced the dull blinking of the suspended bulb the cascaded under the door from the hall.

"Shit shit shit Probie!"

***ACCESS GRANTED***

"Got it!" McGee raised his arms in victory.

"Okaaay…" McGee typed a few more codes of data, drawing the virus from the flashdrive in the side of the computer and into Mikhailov's coding.

"Good planted, lets go!" McGee called, closing the computer, sliding it into his backpack, and slinging it onto his back. He picked up his submachine gun, cocked it, and looked to Tony, who had his ear against the door.

Suddenly, a hole ripped through center of the door, right beside Tony's head. Cordite lingered in as the agents' ears rang. They heard a shotgun being reracked and the harsh Russian voices begin again.

"Probie! Plan B!" Tony stumbled, fingers in his ears. He immediately regained his focus and tossed a fragmentation grenade through the hole in the door that the shotgun made as he ran to McGee.

"What's plan-"

"Follow me!" Tony shot out the glass of the side of the room McGee was working in, leaping through it and onto the rusty fire escape ladder outside. McGee looked in wonder. The ladder was at least five feet from the window, and Tony had already made his way onto the roof of the building below them and was running across it, looking back. When McGee heard the grenade and the Russian cries and cursing, he took a running start, and leapt.

He made his way down the ladder, tracing Tony's steps across the flooded rooftop. _Good thing the computer is waterproof._ _Hope it's bulletproof too._

He caught up to Tony, who had leapt onto the balcony of an apartment across an alley. McGee followed suit, realizing that looking down was not the smartest idea. As he passed over the alley, he couldn't even see the bottom. It looked like a square well, the bottom most likely littered with garbage. Maybe even a body or two. They had to be at least ten stories high. And if the fall didn't kill you, the rats or the Russians would.

Mcgee landed on the balcony as Tony kicked the door in, eliciting the cries of a Chinese family, startled in the night.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Tony whispered as he ran through the dirty, crowded apartment, throwing open the front door, closely followed by McGee.

They sprinted through the hallways. They were filthy; rotting garbage, food, rats. Oh, the rats. They ducked under hanging wires and leaking sewer pipes and splashed through puddles of god knows what. Weaving their way through the apartment halls, Tony finally turned. There was a window at the end of the hall.

Tony grinned. _Must be at the North side of the building, above an alley. Can't touch the ground yet, still a few blocks to go. I don't want to spend the rest of my days in some commie fucking gulag. _

Upon reaching the window, he used the nose of his gun to break it, clearing the large pieces from the frame. The rain buzzed by noisily. McGee turned his head as the lonesome notes of an erhu caught his ear. A baby cried somewhere in the dirty apartment complex as the hanging bulbs flickered like some mad dream. Tony surveyed the jump.

"Alright Probie, you or me first?"

"I'll go, you cover. You're going first in everything."

"Oh-ho McEnvy. Be my guest. By the way, the next rooftop looks about 15 feet down, and 8 feet out."

McGee gulped, took a glance out the window, immediately regretted it, then backed down the hall for a running start. Tony crouched by the window, raising his rifle to be sure no one was following them. McGee began to sprint. At the last moment, he crouched and leapt through the window, leading with his feet.

As he fell, he saw how beautifully dark and romantic the Sham Shui Po District was. Large neon signs in Chinese characters were littered haphazardly about the countless buildings that surrounded them. The different bright colors made gorgeous paintings in the rain as it fell, as well as the puddles. _Damn, puddles! I'm falling!_

McGee hit the roof, rolled, and finally skidded to a stop on his back. He immediately stood, held his weapon, and checked himself for pain. _Wow, didn't even sprain an ankle. _

In an instant, Tony came flying through the window. He landed in the same spot McGee had, and rolled unceremoniously to his partners feet.

"Woooo Probie that was great! We gotta-" Tony was laughing, but paused when he heard a creak. The two agents looked at each other curiously. Then, the roof under them gave way, and they fell through.

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><p>Ziva held her breath as she watched the giant screen in MTAC. Both Tony's and Tim's eye-cams were on the monitor. She couldn't believe that this was McGee she was watching; jumping across alleyways and running over rooftops. She could hear his deep panting. When they fell through the roof, she audibly gasped. But, she wasn't the only one. NCIS had been almost fully converted for this Op. Other teams were handling the casework that would normally been prescribed to Gibbs' team, as he, Ziva, and Ducky even stood quietly within MTAC. She knew what to expect from Gibbs, Vance and Kort, but what surprised her was Ducky's reactions.<p>

She tore her eyes from the screen for a moment to watch the M.E. He looked on in fascination as the boys ran across rooftops in the rain. There was something on Ducky's face that Ziva couldn't pin. _Is that anxiety? Is that fear? _

Occasionally she would see Ducky's lips moving, but no sounds came out. The doctor was obviously saying something, but it was too low to be heard. Then she saw it. In Ducky's eyes, accompanying the anxiety for two men he cared for, was excitement. He rocked back and forth on his heels, and she saw his body tense up with corresponding moments on the screen. He smiled slightly, and even clenched his fist, raising it slightly in front of himself as he shook it. She looked at the old man wonderingly, making a mental note to herself to find a private moment with the doctor where she could ask him about what was going on inside his head.

She turned back to the screen. All she could see were the cameras laying still, as dust lingered around and rain fell through the whole in the roof into the dark room.

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><p><strong>Reviews only take a moment ;)<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

**So, I figured because last chapter was alot of stuff from the first chapter, I'd upload chapter 15 too! Woohoo!**

**WARNING: Contains extreme language and violence**

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><p>"VAT IS THAT!"<p>

Dima bellowed at Ethan. The Russian advanced on the American and grasped him underneath the arms, hoisting him out of his chair and slamming him against the wall. Ethan's feet dangled a good foot above the temple floor as Dima's enormous hands gripped his sides. The other computer technician saw this, and sprinted away from the two.

"Vat are you doing?"

"Dima! Dima look, hold on! Put me down!" Ethan yelled.

"Nyet! I'm getting Mikhailov!"

Ethan, who immediately thought of the fingerless and eyeless punishment that he was threatened with, summoned a surge of strength and made a fist. He punched Dima in the face as hard as he could. Dima was so surprised at the blow that he dropped Ethan and collapsed onto his back by the computer desk. Without hesitating, Ethan leapt to the fallen Russian. One would have expected him to take this opportunity to utilize any instrument he could to neutralize and kill the Russian. But Ethan simply dropped to Dima's side, and grasped the man's hands.

"Dima, look at me! Look at me goddamn it! Hold on a second. Just one second Dima!"

The Russian, who was now bleeding from the nose, refrained from reaching over and snapping the American's neck. He stared into the tech's eyes and simply listened.

"Da Ethan." he seethed.

"Look Dima, you don't know what The Index is. Tell me, do you have family?"

Dima frowned, a questioning look on his face as he simply nodded.

"Where are they living? Russia?"

Dima nodded again as he held his massive hand up to his nose.

"Ok listen to me Dima. The Index will affect them. I saw The Index. I know what it is. There's a reason it's connected to The Kremlin and The Pentagon and all that. Tell me, Dima, do you love your family?"

"Da."

"Ok, they will be affected by The Index. Hell all of it will go to shit if Mikhailov follows through. You need to understand, whatever Mikhailov has planned, it's larger than any of us expected. No one in Langley could have seen this coming. Jesus christ, oh Jesus Christ I need to warn them. Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Dima cocked his head and squinted at Ethan, who stood placing both hands in his hair and pulled it as he paced.

"Jesus Dima, you gotta understand, this Index is fucking evil! It's huge! It's going to fuck everything!"

Ethan turned back to Dima and pointed at him as he got to his feet.

"This thing is fucking evil. Mikhailov's a madman! You hear me? It will only get worse from here. And not just for me, but you and your family. We gotta warn them Dima, we gotta warn them!"

Ethan continued pacing as Dima stood. Something was happening within Dima. While many saw him as a brainless brute, there was the way that Ethan was frantically pacing and stuttering over his own words about The Index. Dima didn't understand, but he tried.

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><p>Dima thought back throughout his life. Many of the men in the encampment in Borneo had fought with him in Kosovo. While it was Mikhailov who was involved with the mass graves in Belgrade, Dima had not been with him at that time. Throughout his militaristic life, Dima had only been given respect because of his size and fighting ability. But, contrary to popular belief, he wasn't stupid. Smart, Dima wasn't exactly either, but Dima had common sense and street smarts. He knew the men made fun of him for being 'big and dumb'. He knew they laughed when he tried to talk to women in bars. They were his comrades, but he was the butt of all their jokes. Until of course he threatened them, but the silence never lasted too long. Even Mikhailov had joined in on making fun of the big man, calling him his 'big puppy dog'. Dima grit his teeth as the memories fluttered out of his subconscious where he'd silenced them.<p>

"Dima, please please please you need to do something. I can't. I can't fucking believe this. I can't do this alone. We never expected it like this. Fuck, Kort why didn't you know? Aaaah!"

Dima walked over to the agent slowly. Ethan stopped his pacing to look at the big man.

"Look Dima, if you want to kill me, just fucking do it." Ethan cried. "Because if Mikhailov succeeds, there will be nothing for me. And I'd rather be dead when it happens. Just fucking kill me!"

Dima stooped down till he was on eye level with Ethan, and as softly as he could, put a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you trust me, Ethan?" The Russian asked quietly. Ethan looked shocked. He had expected anything but that.

"I… umm I guess you're all I can trust right now. There's no one else, except for the other two agents. But they're probably dead by now. So, um, yeah Dima, I trust you."

Dima smiled, leaned toward Ethan and whispered, "I'm sorry, Ethan."

Ethan didn't see the punch coming, and was out before he hit the floor. The large Russian hoisted the unconscious American onto his shoulders, and carried him out of the temple to Mikhailov's tent.

The room was dark, aside from the green glow from Ethan's computer screen. In the bottom left corner was a single line of green text that blinked.

/DOWNLOADED/SAINT/ELMOS/FIRE/AWAITING/ACTIVATION/

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><p><strong>Gaah! So i hope you're liking it! What's gonna happen to Ethan? What is Dima planning now? Or will he just kill Ethan? Who knows at this point. I don't really haha, gotta write it. <strong>

**I hope you all had a wonderful weekend!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Happy Tuesday everyone! Here is Chapter 16! And btw, I wrote a songfic oneshot called "I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You". I encourage you to check it out. and perhaps leave me love. Trying get some oneshots under my belt haha. **

**WARNING: Contains Language**

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><p>"Ah ha owww, Probie! I thought you said you lost weight." Tony cried as McGee he struggled to push McGee off of his body.<p>

"I did Tony!"

McGee lay atop Tony. Their limbs were tangled and in slight pain. Most likely from the running and jumping.

"Oh ho, you had to be all like 'one more level Tony, one more level'!"

"Well you could have been watching the hallway instead of that girl in the other apartment changing."

"I'm a DiNozzo!"

"Now… What is that? Stop kneeing me. No, ow, move your elbow."

"That's not my knee... Just kidding! Ha! Ok, but next time we parachute, I'm kicking your ass even harder. I thought we'd never get off that plane."

"I said I was sorry! Jumping out of planes isn't exactly on my resume. Ok, just... there we go."

McGee finally untangled himself from Tony, and they both stood, checking their weapons and brushing themselves off.

"Oh, McGee, got a little dust on your back."

"Where?"

McGee craned his neck around, and Tony brushed off McGee's shoulders with the palm of his hand.

A frail old Chinese man sat in the corner of the room, smoking a very long pipe, looking in shock at the two soldiers as a long trail of smoke curled around his head. They had just fallen through his roof, bickered in English, and were now brushing each other off tenderly. The man took a long drag of his pipe and shook his head. Tony glanced over, noticing the man.

"I, umm, hey Pops. We're umm, gonna go now. Sorry about your roof. Think of it as an upgrade. Get some cling wrap and TA-DA! Skylight!"

"Tony, let's go!"

* * *

><p>The two agents pushed out through the front door, into another apartment hallway. As they ran, Tony checked his watch.<p>

"Shit, we're gonna be late! I need to find a window."

"You've broken enough windows Tony!"

"Ok, look, I am never getting married because I swear to god this is what it's like."

"Well I wouldn't even think of marrying you!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Good!"

"Good!"

The agents wound down a set of stairs, rainwater from leaky ceilings making puddles in the stairwell. It had a filthy musty smell, but the agents were used to it by now. They reached one of the lower levels as McGee took the lead. As he ran, he pulled out the handheld tablet, one that Kort had included in their equipment. It quickly mapped out the apartment that they were inside, in blueprint form. McGee kept glancing at it as they ran. _Left, right, left, left._

"Ok Tony, here we go." McGee kicked open a wrought iron door at the end of a hallway. The path led into a dark garden, a dirt pathway leading down a hillside in front of them. The rain had turned it all into mud, which slicked slowly down past several shanty homes nestled in the vegetation.

"McGoo! I love you!"

They raced down the hillside, glad to finally be feeling somewhat clean as the rain cleansed them. They splashed past sleeping residents of the district and under Chinese Elms. A barge horn blew fairly nearby.

"There we go! We may not miss it!" McGee called behind him.

"Yeah, keep up the pace. Russians may be close."

The hillside led back down into the dirty streets and alleys of the slums. The roadways were narrow. They ducked under Chinese lanterns and clothes lines and jumped over trash bins and mopeds. McGee let Tony take the lead as he looked down at the tablet in his hands.

"Just a couple blocks up, and three to the right."

"Copy."

Tony and Tim wound their way for a quarter of a mile, the deafening roar of the rain and the thunder masking their escape.

"Here!" Tim stopped underneath a garage overhang beside a road that led out of the clustered apartment complexes. He pulled a sheet off a tiny car and jumped into the passenger seat and began tapping the tablet. A map in fluorescent neon colors shone on his face as Tony hopped into the driver seat. He found the keys that The Agency had had given him, turned the car on, and sped out onto the road, heading South.

"Ok take a right onto… ummm Kowloon Corridor. Then a left onto… ummm Container Port Road. That'll bring us to Stonecutters Bridge. We'll use that to get to Rambler Channel." McGee relayed directions as Tony swerved the car about.

"Damn, I still don't know. Left side? Right side? Which god damn side of the road do I drive on?"

Their car pulled left onto Container Port Road, heading southwest. Just then, Tony noticed a car in the rearview gaining distance on them. _Fuck, a tail. Just like Somalia. _

"Hang on McGee!"

Tony punched the accelerator, swinging the wheel to the left as they cut across oncoming traffic, the rain blanketing the windshield, faded street lights casting eerie glows on it. McGee grasped the handle in the car, gripping it with all his strength as cars honked and swerved around them.

"Hey, nice Mr. Bond! We're on the right street, keep going and we'll reach the harbor. Just follow the elevated train."

"Awww McGoo, the movie reference! I was waiting for that!" Tony beamed as he sped along.

As soon as the agents' vehicle reached Stonecutters Island, Tony punched the accelerator harder, the car speeding beneath the highway as it rose up to pass over Rambler Channel. The cars on the suspended bridge droned, splashing puddles down onto the car as Tony pulled to a stop at the end of the road. To their right were countless shipping containers and factories that bellowed a thick grey smoke into the night sky. Both agents slung their weapons onto their backs as they stepped out of the vehicle. Tony pulled from his thigh the dark black pistol and quickly screwed on the suppressor. McGee ran to the back, opened the hatch, pulling from it a five gallon jug of gasoline. He poured about a gallon into the carpeted hatch, then tossed the jug upside down into the front seat. He could hear the gasoline leaking from the container.

"Hustle McGee, I can see the barge!"

McGee glanced over the car. A large barge, brimming with shipping containers was slowly making its way out of port, its port lights joining the numerous dancing illuminations on the waves of Rambler Channel. McGee pulled a zippo lighter from his pocket, lit it, took a few steps backwards, then tossed the lighter into the car. The vehicle erupted into a fireball as both agents shielded their faces from the blaze.

"Alright Tony, let's go."

With evidence of their presence currently ablaze, the agents sprinted towards the southern most support column of Stonecutter Bridge. Tony quickly shot the lock on the access ladder with his suppressed pistol, flung open the gate and began his ascent, with McGee close behind.

"I swear to god, if I have to climb another god damn ladder, I'm gonna swan dive. My legs are on fire!"

McGee would have chuckled, if it weren't for the fact that the Chinese authorities were most likely on their way to the reported vehicle fire. _And where did our tail go?_

They reached the service catwalk just beneath the roadway and began sprinting along it, their boots clanking loudly on the old metal. As they ran, they could see the "Destrallius" getting closer.

"Ok Probie! It's about a 20 foot drop from here to the top of the shipping containers!"

"Copy!"

"That's it? Just copy? No bitching and moaning? Not even 'Ooooh no Tony, it's too tall, I don't like heights! Please Tony save me!'" Tony imitated McGee's voice.

"Tony, I have a gun."

"Point taken."

By the time they reached the center of Stonecutter Bridge, the 'Destrallius' was just beginning to pass under it. The agents both hoisted themselves over the thin fence and balanced on the edge as the barge began to pass under them.

"You ready Tony?"

"Only if you hold my hand McGoo!" Tony joked.

Not getting the humor immediately, McGee grabbed Tony's hand. The older agent simply chuckled as he prepped them to jump down onto the barge.

"One, two… Oh shit, the cops!" Tony yelled. McGee looked off in the direction of their flaming vehicle. Multiple police cruisers circled the vehicle, and they could see flashlights from the policemen moving too and fro.

"Now! Probie!" Tony whispered, wanting to place as much distance between them and the police as soon as possible. The two agents, still holding hands, leapt from the side of Stonecutters Bridge. They landed together on the top of a collection of shipping containers. As they landed, McGee bounced to the side.

"McGee!" Tony yelled as his hand was torn from his partner's. Tony watched helplessly as McGee slipped off the side of the shipping container, and fell to the deck.

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><p><strong>Oh No! What happened to McGee? Will it affect the mission? And what is happening to Ethan?<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**Thank you to Junee, Sazitta, and lifes2real for the reviews! You three have helped keep me motivated to keep up with the updates and the story! Again, a very sincere thank you!**

**WARNING: Language**

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><p>Every hand in MTAC covered a mouth in unison as the tension within the room soared. Both McGee's and Tony's eye-cam's had been oddly gone out, resulting in blinding static that illuminated the room.<p>

"Damnit! Fix that!" Kort yelled to his technicians, who began frantically searching for a way to appease their commander. Ziva held both hands to her mouth as tears began to flow. Gibbs clenched and unclenched his jaw. Ducky's hands were on his head, an expression of disbelief on his face.

"No…" Ducky whispered.

"Rook? Orion? Can you hear me? End radio silence." Kort called to the screen.

There was no response.

"Rook, Orion come in god dammit! Can you hear me?"

And then they heard McGee groan. All eyes in MTAC shot to the static filled screens. Visual feed was out, but they still were connected through to the audio feed. The only indication that their men were alright, was what they heard. Tears began to roll down Ziva's cheeks, an incredible feeling of helplessness consuming her. Gibbs noticed this, stepped next to her and wrapped a caring arm around her shoulders as they listened to the audio.

Tony: "Fuck, McGoo! Tim! Tim! Oh Jesus Christ..." *whispering*

McGee: *Groan*

Tony: McGee! Stay there, I'm coming down.

*scuffling sound of Tony climbing down cargo containers*

Tony: Hold on McGee.

McGee: *groan* *sound of McGee moving around*

Unknown Voice: Halt! Who's there! (in a thick Irish accent)

Tony: Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

*loud clanking footsteps*

Unknown Voice: What the bloody hell?

Tony: Hands up! *clicking of pistol being drawn*

Unknown Voice: Wait a second mate! You don't wanna do that.

Tony: Oh yeah? Why?

Unknown Voice: You Orion? This muss'n be Rook.

Tony: Skrill...

McGee: *groan*

Unknown Voice: Yeah, I'm Skrill. Let's get Rook into my quarters. You'll be safe there.

*sound of Tony pulling out papers*

Tony: Uhhh yeah I got your picture right here. Glad you're Skrill man. I didn't want to kill you.

Skrill: Makes two of us, mate.

Tony: Alright, I'll take his shoulders. Grab his legs.

Skrill: Got it.

*Scuffling and grunting, then door creaking open*

Skrill: At least he's not too heavy. I couldn't imagine carrying you, Orion.

Tony: Oh shut it, Skrill.

Skrill: Alright, up here. On my bunk. We'll let him sleep it off.

Tony: Sleep it off? He's already unconscious.

McGee: Zuh-Zee Vah. Where… Ziva!

Skrill: Not for long. Here, take this. Come on Rook, wake up!

McGee: Uuuuunggg Ziva

Skrill: Who's Ziva?

Tony: His lover. Ok, you got some alcohol?

Skrill: Orion, this ere's a barge, what you think?

Tony: No?

Skrill: I'm Irish, of course I do. It's cheap whiskey, but hell I could use some too.

Tony: I like you, Skrill

Skrill: Yeah, thanks. I could see your car fire from the barge. Made it just in time.

Tony: No shit.

Skrill: There was an unmarked car behind you guys. You see that?

Tony: I… think so?

McGee: Where… Tony?

Skrill: It's Orion. He's coming to.

Tony: Come on Rook! I swear, every time we do something like this, this guy gets fucked up.

Skrill: Here, get his clothes off.

Tony: Taking advantage of an unconscious person. Classy Skrill.

Skrill: Shut it ya muppet. I need to see if there are any other wounds. If he busted a bone e's done for.

Tony: Done for? *concerned, questioning tone*

Skrill: You 'erd me.

*McGee's groans and the sound of clothes and equipment being removed*

Skrill: Ok, Rook? Listen tah me. Tell me if somethin' 'urts, I'm going to palpate up and down your body an' limbs.

Tony: Kinky.

Skrill: You ever stop talking?

Tony: Nope.

Skrill: Figures. Rook, feel anythin' hurt?

McGee: Ummmnnnggg naaaaw. My... my head...

Skrill: Good. Stay awake Rook! Orion, help me flip him.

Tony: Got it.

Skrill: Ok, easy does it. *grunt*

Tony: Come on Tim. Oh, shit, Rook. My bad Skrill, I meant Rook.

Skrill: *low chuckle*

Skrill: Jesus Christ… the fuck happen' tah 'is back? Looks as 'es been tortured...

Tony: Long story.

Skrill: I'll say. Chris' almighty. If Mikhailov nabs you two, I know e'll be able to take whatever that psycho dishes out. I 'ope you can too, Orion.

Tony: I will.

Skrill: Ok, Rook how you doin'? You had a nasty fall. Bumped yer 'ed, but you'll be ok. Orion, 'ere are some blankets, tha'll be your bed. We have about 10 hours till I take you to Borneo.

Tony: Whiskey?

Skrill: Right.

*clanking of a bottle* then *squeeze-pop of a cork being removed*

Skrill: We'll keep an eye on Rook here.

Tony: Jesus, it feels good to sit down.

Skrill: *laughing* I'll bet. Just relax for now.

Tony: So your Irish eh? How are the ladies in Ireland?

Skrill: Lad, you 'ave no idea. Cheers.

Tony: Cheers, and uh, hold on a moment Skrill.

* * *

><p>"God dammit why is radio contact gone?" Kort snapped as he frantically traced wires in MTAC. Then Tony's voice called out to him.<p>

"Kort? Kort it's Orion. You there Kort?" Tony's voice pierced through the speakers.

"Orion! Yes, I'm here."

"Ok, yeah sorry I wasn't saying anything before, just had to take care of Rook."

"Copy Orion. Gave us quite a scare there for a moment."

"Naw, we're good. Rook's doing alright. Hit his head, but that's about it."

It took all within Gibbs not to talk to Tony, but he new that would only remind Tony of comfortable things. It would remind him of the pleasant, Special Agent life back in D.C. That's not what Tony or McGee needed right now, so he let Kort conduct the conversation.

"Ok Orion, listen to me. You will be leaving all your radio and camera equipment with Skrill in the CRRC when you arrive in Borneo. It will be complete radio silence. You'll have the satellite receiver that I provided for you. Activate it only after you've assured that The Index has been destroyed or captured. Copy?"

"Copy Kort."

"Alright Orion, get some rest, you'll need it. Look after Rook."

"Will do. And uh, Kort?"

"Yeah Orion?"

"You're an asshole."

"Thanks Orion." Kort chuckled.

"Out."

Kort removed the headset as MTAC grew silent, and turned to Gibbs, Ziva, and Ducky. He simply nodded to them, whispering "They'll need rest."

The three nodded back to them, and Gibbs and Kort shuffled out of MTAC. Only Ziva stayed, as she stared at the static filled screen. It reflected off the tears running down her face.

"My dear?" Ducky asked quietly as he put his hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, whiping away the tears and forcing a smile.

"Oh Ziva, would you like to get some coffee? I know it's late, and you should get some sleep, but you have the symptoms of someone wrought with fear. I feel, that I may be of assistance." She touched Ducky's cheek softly.

"Thank you Ducky, but I think I'd rather get a drink." Ducky's eyes lit up.

"Splendid my dear! Just let me get my coat. I'll meet you by the elevator. I'll have Abby meet us in about an hour, if you don't mind." Ziva nodded.

"Sounds good Ducky."

The two exited MTAC together, both consumed by anxiety for the two agents halfway across the world.

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><p><strong>Sorry that this chapter was a bit short, but there's more coming soon! As always, reviews are not only loved (in an egocentric sort of way :) but they help inspire me when I know people are enjoying and looking forward to the rest of the story. Much love!<strong>


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

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><p>Ziva and Ducky were seated comfortably at a corner table in a quiet bar that was walking distance from the Naval Yard. The waiter brought their drinks, a snifter of scotch for the doctor, and an amber beer for Ziva. They clinked their glasses together and took deep sips. It was very much needed.<p>

"So, my dear, what's on your mind? Aside from the obvious, of course." Ducky asked, smiling sweetly. Ziva fought the lump in her throat as she thought of the countless things that were on her mind. _Where to start?_ Finally, she concluded she wanted to know why Ducky was so animated when watching the visual feed.

"Ducky, you seemed very… moved in MTAC. I watched you… I hope you do not mind, but you seemed… affected." The M.E. chuckled, his eyes twinkling, as Ducky's always did.

"Dearest Ziva, I am simply concerned about our boys. I want them home safe as much as you do."

"But Ducky, you seemed to be, forgive me if this is off the shark, but you seemed to almost… enjoy watching the feed, no?"

"Off the mark, my dear." Ducky corrected, before clearing his throat and sighing as he leaned back. Quietly, he whispered "Oh dear," to himself. He took another sip, then crossed his arms over the table, leaning on them as he looked into Ziva's eyes.

"Ziva, this may be a bit of a surprise, but I envy Timothy and Anthony, in a way. I envy their bravado and their opportunities. I suppose, one may say, that I live vicariously through them."

"Vicariously?"

"Yes, my dear. With you, sits an old man. But I see Anthony, Timothy, and Jethro even, and I see a life that I wish I could go back to. I have no regrets, and understand my age, but watching them, and knowing that it is quite impossible for me to do things like that again is... difficult at times like this. Is it so hard to understand? I, at my age, am bound by my age, to experience that life, through my colleagues. I see in those boys, the life I led while I was in 'The Regiment.'"

"The Regiment?" Ziva asked, cocking her head. Ducky smiled and nodded.

"Not many know this. Jethro does, of course, but I served in Vietnam, with her Majesty's Military. British SAS my dear. Special Air Service."

Ziva was stunned. This mild mannered doctor, whom seemed the furthest from an aggresive or militaristic individual, had served not only in the military, but as a part of the United Kingdom Special Forces. She simply stared at Ducky in disbelief.

"I know that part of my history may seem… rather farfetched. But it is indeed the truth. And, truth be told, I was good." The old man chuckled as he leaned back, taking another sip. And whether it was his intuition, or simply wisdom in old age, he knew what Ziva would ask next.

"So, Doctor, being that you… experienced the type of… life that Tim and Tony are currently living, do you think that Tim will be... capable? Is he made for that? Do you think he can do it?"

"Do you, my dear?" Ducky countered.

Ziva thought hard, thinking of the argument they had had a few days before, when McGee had told her about not only his mission, but his insecurities of his masculinity.

"Tim… told me that he wanted to do this to prove… that he was not just the soft computer nerd. That he is masculine. That he can protect me. He told me how he had been… bullied, and saw this as an opportunity to prove that he was strong. I was mad at the time, but maybe you understand that, no?"

Ducky smiled. "My dear, may I make the accurate assumption that your Timothy and I are not that far removed in personality? I too, wanted to prove that I was not just a soft medical student. I see Timothy, as I see my younger self. He reminds me of my youth. Precocious, and caring. Do not worry too much, Ziva. I have sometimes wondered how on earth he and I are so similar. I feel, that knowing myself, you will have a good indication of the kind of man he will be later in life. I would bet my career on that."

Ziva smiled, not only because Ducky had reassured that Tim, to his knowledge, would be fine on the Op, but that he was subtly implying that he and she would be together for years. It warmed her heart to hear a man, with such experience, knowledge, and wisdom, to serendipitously give his approval of their relationship. She sat for a moment, absorbing the information Ducky had given her, and the doctor took the liberty of ordering them each another drink, as well as one for Abby when she arrived.

Soon, the goth approached their table, but instead of her usual bouncy and upbeat demeanor, was one of reserved caution. She too felt the weight of their boys' absences, in spite of not witnessing what had happened in MTAC. She took a seat with Ziva and Ducky, smiling comfortingly.

"So, do you guys know how Timmy and Tony's mission is going?" she asked innocently.

Ducky grimly smiled and patted her hand.

"Well my dear, it is… complicated."

* * *

><p>*shush shush shush*<p>

Gibbs sanded one of the many pieces of wood he had laying upon his work table in the basement. He'd already polished off two jars of bourbon, and couldn't keep his mind from wandering. He thought back to when they had been in Somalia, and even the times before. He thought of how McGee had never felt like a true part of the team until recently and how the older man had been surprised at the stillwater strength within him. _That's Tim. He's like stillwater. Calm on the surface, but strong and powerful beneath. _But, Gibbs was worried. Strength is rarely the only character trait hidden below.

*shush shush shush*

Gibbs thought of himself, and how, even though he seemed stoic, strong, and cold even to his team, beneath the surface of that harsh exterior was fear, anger, and even rage at times. Given how his family had been taken from him, it was understandable. But with McGee, and the apparent child abuse he faced, something had to be lurking just out of sight. It was very rare that a man or woman would completely heal from something so violent when they were young, especially when it was inflicted by one that was supposed to love and protect them. Gibbs could only guess that behind McGee's sparkling, smiling eyes, was something menacing. Gibbs wouldn't call it hatred, for the young man didn't seem to have any capacity to contain that characteristic, but maybe anger and resentment.

*shhhh shhhh shhhh*

Gibbs turned the piece of wood over in his hands, smiling a little at it. It was coming out quite nicely. As he sanded and etched the corners and little details, he wondered why he'd never seen it before. At the end of their ordeal in Somalia, it was understood that the older man knew of McGee's lack of a father figure. _No one's father should be their enemy so young._ Gibbs shook his head at himself as he took another swig. Between that mission and this one, Gibbs hadn't really shown the younger man that he was willing to be that father figure. Anyone could see that in the MCRT, it was implied, but with a background such as McGee's, it needed to be made clear that an older man would be there, through everything, for him. That older man needed to be Gibbs.

*snip snip snip*

Gibbs clipped away unwanted edges and protrusions from the piece of dark wood. He wondered why he had never seized the opportunity to be Tim's father figure. He'd done so for both Tony and Ziva on multiple occasions. _Why not Tim?_ Maybe it was because they were so different. Gibbs saw himself in Tony, and saw the opportunity present itself with Ziva. But even when the opportunity to be there as a father to Tim after Somalia so obviously presented itself, all he could do was muster words while the younger man was unconscious in Tel Aviv.

Gibbs sighed, then looked to his basement stairs, inwardly hoping he'd see Tim come walking down. But he knew he wouldn't, and not just because he was thousands of miles away. Of all those he knew, Tim was the only one who'd not embraced Gibbs' 'open door' policy. Why was that? Was the younger agent intimidated? Was he afraid? Then a possibility clicked within the older man. _Maybe, Tim is afraid of father figures. After all, the last one he had, beat him. _Gibbs nodded to himself, wondering how anyone could ever strike a child with malicious intent. Sure, Gibbs himself had spanked Kelly, but it was in a caring father, 'tough love', disciplinary way. But Tim? Tim was beat, plain and simple. The man's entire life, he'd been hurt. His father. Bullies in school. Even Tony with his joking. Abby breaking his heart. The woman he was falling for who was murdered under his watch. The woman he was falling for who stole money from him. The woman he was falling for who was killed in his arms. The ordeal with Sharif, both physical and psychological.

When Gibbs hashed it out, one by one, he truly realized the beauty and courage of what Timothy McGee was. A man who, despite repetitive and drastic hardship, maintained a cheerful demeanor and a true heart. But also, he understood how dire the situation was for the younger man. Every person has a breaking point. Every person, even kind and thoughtful McGee, could snap. Gibbs just hoped it wouldn't be too late, because he knew what type of mental hardship an Operation like Blackbird could cause.

Gibbs nodded as he held the completed piece of wood in front of him, turning it in the light. He was looking forward to McGee coming home. He'd love the gift Gibbs was making for him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The bit about Ducky's military history I got from NCIS wiki. So, I assume it's accurate.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**WARNING: Contains a lot of dialogue, language, and torture.**

* * *

><p>When Ethan awoke, his vision was clouded. He could barely make out, through the dark smudges in front of him, that he was in a room, and there were two people standing in front of him. He could hear them speaking in hushed Russian. It sounded like they were arguing. Ethan tried to rub his eyes, but found his hands were tied, or rather handcuffed to the chair he was sitting in. As he began to stir, the two men stopped arguing. Ethan found that his ankles were bound to the legs of the chair. He pushed his heels into the ground, immediately realizing the chair must have been bolted to the floor. <em>Shit.<em>

"Ethan? Vake up Ethan." The American immediately recognized Mikhailov's voice. He cringed. As his vision began to improve, he saw that he was still inside the temple. The room he was in had no windows, but a large wooden door that was hinged to the stone of the structure. It looked like a dungeon.

"Vell Ethan, I see you have discovered vat The Index is." Mikhailov spoke calmly.

"Unfortunately, now that you have that knowledge, you must die."

Ethan kept his mouth shut. _Well, I deserve it. Goddamn Kort, I will never forgive that man. _Ethan's vision was still a bit hazy as he saw the door open, and Fuchs entered, wheeling a little operating table. Ethan shuddered when he saw the instruments on it. _Yep, this is it. I just hope I die quickly. _

"Dima here, requested to torture you, until death. He vants to try his hand at it." Mikhailov snorted, obviously displeased that he or Fuchs were not performing the torture. Ethan could see Fuchs' disappointed expression.

"But, before he does so, I vant to ask. Are you impressed vith The Index? It is genius no?" Ethan worked his swollen tongue around to form words.

"Like I said before, you're a fucking animal."

Mikhailov's laugh echoed like a ghost.

"Is that all?"

"And I fucked your mother." Ethan snapped, then spat a glob of blood at Mikhailov.

Mikhailov simply shook his head, turned, motioned to Fuchs for him to exit, then followed the German out. Dima's enormous form stood over the American as the door closed behind him. A single lightbulb hung suspended above and between the two. Ethan expected Dima to speak, maybe punch him until he passed out again, but the large Russian simply stood there, watching the man in the chair. The sound of Mikhailov and Fuchs' menacing laughter grew quieter as they walked through the temple away from Ethan's torture chamber.

To Ethan's surprise, the big man took a few steps forward, then kneeled in front of the agent. Dima's enormous eyes bored holes through Ethan, and the American was overcome with an odd feeling. _Regret? Guilt? What the hell?_

"Vat is your real name?" Dima asked softly. Ethan cocked his head.

"Am I going to die, Dima?" The large Russian simply nodded.

"Wow... ok. Well, my real name is Sam. Andrew Perez."

"Do you have a family, Andrew?"

"Yeah. They live in New York City."

"Vat are they like?" Ethan looked hard at Dima, not understanding what the point of this conversation was.

"Look, if you're going to kill me, just do it. Why the questions?"

"Vat are they like?" Dima skirted answering. Ethan sighed, pulled slightly against his restraints, concluded that they were tight, and took a deep breath.

"They're good. Mom and dad still together. Coming up on their 30 year anniversary. I got two older sisters and a younger brother. Sisters are both veterinarians, and my brother is a cop."

"In New York City?"

"Yeah."

"Is he a good cop?"

"One of the best. He's a detective. Puts away bad people." Dima nodded, as Ethan began to laugh.

"Vat is so funny?"

"You know, I didn't even want to be an agent. I didn't want to work for the government. I wanted to be an ordinary cop like my brother. I guess I was just really smart at NYU and The Agency picked me up. Funny how things work out, you know?"

"You like animals too? Like your sisters?"

"Yeah, love em. We had a dog when I was little. He was old, and when he died, I…" Ethan began laughing as sweat beaded on his brow. "I actually did mouth to mouth. You know, CPR? Yeah, I was eight years old, tried doing CPR on a husky. Funny, the shit you do when you're young. Man, I loved that dog." Ethan sighed, chuckling to himself and shaking his head.

Dima smiled, then stood turning to the instrument table. He picked up a large blade from it, turning it over in the light. The Russian ran a thumb along the blade, then turned back to Ethan, who began pulling against the restraints.

"Look Dima, I'm sorry." Ethan gasped as the other man came closer, brandishing the blade.

"I'm sorry for using your trust. It's what we're taught in The Agency. To do as agents. But… for what it's worth, I'm sorry. But, can I ask you a question?"

Dima stopped and looked curiously at Ethan. He nodded.

"Dima, are you… a bad man? I mean, like Mikhailov and Fuchs. Are you like them?" Dima was taken back by the question. He rubbed his chin, then shook his large head slowly.

"No, Ethan. Like you said, I put food on the table. Leo pays me, and I send it to my family in Russia."

"Have you ever killed an innocent man?"

"No. Just men trying to kill me."

"So you're just a soldier? You're not like Mikhailov and Fuchs?"

"No, I am not."

Ethan nodded as he studied Dima. Upon initial asessment, and dossier provided by Kort, Dima seemed to be just a thug; a piece of equipment used by Mikhailov. But Ethan's opinion of the man was changing. Something about Dima told Ethan that there was some goodness in that large frame.

"Are you a good man?"

"Vat is a good man?" Dima asked back.

"Good question."

"I…" Dima cleared his throat as he began pacing back and forth.

"I vanted to be a... don't laugh, Ethan. I vanted to be a veterinarian, like your sisters. In America. Since I was a little boy, I vanted to help animals. I also vanted to be a… how you say… coach? I vanted to coach children futball." Ethan began laughing again.

"Vat is funny! I said not to laugh!" Dima bellowed, obviously becoming offended.

"I would love to see that. Some little sick kitten getting lost in your huge hands." Ethan backpedaled. "I just, you seem to be fit for this part pretty well."

"Because I vas so large and strong, I had to go into the army. And I never got out. I hope, vun day, I can be a veterinarian. I also vanted to be a detective."

"Detective? Man, you wanted to do everything. Or anything but this?"

"Like your brother. I vanted to punish bad men."

"And you don't feel like you're a bad man now? What about punishing Mikhailov? Or Fuchs?"

"Ve all do things, in life, that are good and bad."

"Don't I know it." Ethan agreed.

"And sometimes, I feel that ve can't help but do bad things sometimes."

"Are you sorry?" Ethan asked. Dima stopped pacing and looked back at him.

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, are you sorry for the bad things you've done, Dima?"

Dima stepped toward Ethan and kneeled again, as he placed his hands on Ethan's forearms. There faces were inches apart, and Ethan saw the true Dima. Sadness.

"I pray, every night, to whoever is up there, to forgive me for the things I've done. I can't sleep, Ethan. Some days, I can't eat. I feel so guilty for the things I've done. But I know feeling guilt does not make you a good man." Dima stood again.

"Well, I guess you're on the right track to being a good man." Ethan whispered softly. Dima was about to speak when Ethan interrupted him.

"I guess big man, if I'm gonna die, I'm ok if you're the one who kills me. At least I know you still have some heart in you. And I'm ok with that."

Dima couldn't look Ethan in the eyes. He turned and faced the door and stared to the ceiling. He mumbled something in Russian that Ethan didn't understand, then turned to the American.

"I'm sorry Ethan. It has to happen this way."

"It's ok Dima. Can you do me a favor though, before you start?" Dima nodded, a questioning look on his face.

"Can you, after I'm dead and all this is over with, go become a veterinarian. Or a detective or a coach. Just do it. If that's what you want, go do it."

Dima nodded as he grit his teeth. Large tears slid down Dima's cheeks, and just as he was about to say something, Mikhailov burst in, with Fuchs awkwardly carrying a bundle of car jumper cables. Mikhailov shoved Dima away from Ethan, the blade dropping to the floor. The Russian leader leaned in, breathing stale air on Ethan's face, and smiled evilly. Behind him, Ethan could see Fuchs connecting the cables to the wired lighting system that illuminated the temple.

"Your agentssss." Mikhailov seethed. "The vuns in Hong Kong, killed two of my men. Vun of my good friends lost both of his legs, and bled out from a hand grenade..." Mikhailov reared up, replacing his hiss with a sheer bellow, "THAT YOUR AGENTS THREW! Now you vill tell me their names! You know their names, and you vill tell me! I vill personally give the doctor freedom vith you! Or I will have him keep you alive, so ve can torture you longer than you thought ever possible!"

At that, Mikhailov reared back, pulled his pistol from its holster, and began repeatedly whipping the agent with it. Dima stood somber in the corner, his conscience conflicted.

"FUCHS! THE CABLES!" Fuchs handed Mikhailov the ends of the cables, and the Russian tapped them together, eliciting a shower of sparks onto the bound agent. Ethan struggled in vain against the restraints, turning his terrified eyes to Dima. The big man shook his head sadly, as Mikhailov snapped the clamps onto Ethan's hands.

The computer technicians looked up from their stations as the light bulbs that hung throughout the temple flickered, and they heard bloodcurdling screams echo through the halls.

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><p><strong><em>HOURS LATER<em>**

Dima couldn't blame Ethan when he divulged information on the two agents. Blood dripped from Ethan's mouth and ears and he shivered violently. The electricity that coursed through his body scorched his internal organs and shocked his heart into an irregular rhythm on multiple occasions. Mikhailov stood back, and tossed the cables to the ground and wiped sweat from his brow as he looked at the agent. The Russian spat on his face.

"O….*cough*… ok. I- I I'll tell you. I'll fffffuckin tell you. Jussst s-s-stop. P-p-p-plea-ease *cough* stop." Ethan cried. It was more pain than he'd ever experienced. He could smell his own body burning. His hair stood up in different directions, and even Fuchs was a bit taken back by the severity of the torture. Mikhailov leaned into him.

"Yes, Ethan?"

"McGee. Timothy Mc-McGee. An-An-Anthon *cough* y DiNozzo. Work *cough* for N-NCIS. Sssspecial A-Agents." As soon as Ethan gave the information, he passed out from the pain, his head slumping against his chest as blood continued dripping slightly from his singed mouth. Mikhailov brushed himself off and nodded to the unconscious agent.

"Dima! Go to all the computer technicians. I vant all the information they can find on Timothy McGee and Anthony DiNozzo. I vant their dreams, fears, medical histories, family histories. I vant everything! And tell them to get The Index connected. NOW!" Dima hurried off down the halls with his master's request, a battle brewing within the man.

Mikhailov knelt next to the unconscious, smoking agent. Even though the man was out, Mikhailov still whispered to him.

"I vill not kill you yet. I vant you to look in the eyes of Timothy and Anthony when I tell them you betrayed them. I vant you to feel that guilt, as you vatch them die. I vant them and you to know, it vas all your fault."

Mikhailov stood, and with Fuchs in tow, exited the room and shut the door, sealing Ethan in.


	20. Chapter 20

**Sorry for not updating yesterday, had a busy work day and couldn't get around to it. But here's chapter 20!**

**WARNING: contains language. **

**BTW, CRRC stands for Combat Rubber Raiding Craft. Goggle it and you'll get an idea of what one looks like. **

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><p>"McGee!"<p>

McGee sat up abruptly. He could have sworn he heard someone call his name, but it only sounded like wind through trees. He immediately felt water on his face and reached up to brush it away. As he opened his eyes, he realized where he was. _Oh my god, did the Destrallius sink? __I know I was knocked unconscious... Did this happen while I was out?_

He was in a lifeboat that tossed slowly on Indonesian seas. He turned about him in the wooden boat, careful not to tip it too much.

"Tony! Tooooooony!" McGee called out frantically as he looked in all directions. All he could see was ocean stretching on for miles. Fear overtook the agent. _Where's Tony? Where's Skrill? Where am I?_

McGee turned back to the front of the lifeboat and nearly fell over from surprise.

"Hello McGee." In front of the agent, was himself.

They were dressed identically, both in matching tactical gear from Operation Blackbird. Then, McGee remembered his dream from before; the one where he saw himself making a boat in Gibbs' basement. _This is a dream, this is a dream. Just a dream. All I remember was falling from the-. Oh my god, am I dead?_

"What are you doing?" The impostor asked calmly as he reclined against the bow of the lifeboat.

"I'm… I'm dreaming. You're a dream. That's all you are." the real McGee replied, somewhat unsure of himself, indicated by a slight quavering in his voice. The impostor sighed and shook his head.

"That's all I am to you? A dream?"

"What should you be? You're a part of my imagination. Like a character from my books."

"Really? That's all?" The impostor stood threateningly.

McGee simply stared.

"You see, all of this!" The fake McGee waved about, pointing to the ocean. "It's all who you are! It's all inside you. This ocean. This lifeboat. I may be a part of your imagination, but I'm so much more important than that. Do you get it? You and your literary pretentiousness."

"I'm not pretentious!" The real McGee snapped.

"Oh? And yet you insist you are real, and I am a part of your imagination. What if it's the other way around?"

"Because it's not. Because I know Tony and Ziva and… I experience them every day! How can I be fake? You are the fake one."

"But I experience all that too." The impostor leaned in close to McGee.

"The difference between you and me, is I'm not afraid to take chances. I'm not afraid to speak my mind. I'm not afraid to let loose, and go for the throat. You? You're a scared little child in grown up clothes." The impostor sat back, grinning evilly to himself. McGee was so stunned, offended even, that he could simply gawk at himself.

"So, you _are _ a part of me."

"Yep. The part that isn't afraid to let go." The fake McGee placed a cigarette in his lips, and lit it, blowing the smoke over the real McGee.

"Afraid? AFRAID?" McGee snapped. "I went to Somalia! I confronted Sharif! I killed people over there! And now I'm on a Black Op for the C.I.A.! Don't you tell me I'm afraid!"

"I'm not talking about things like that. Back in D.C. You're always afraid. Just let me go..." The impostor grew a suspicious smile.

"Let me out."

"Why? Who are you?"

The impostor rubbed his chin, thinking of the proper wording.

"I'm the part you threw away. I'm breadcrumbs brushed down to the dogs. I'm the part of you that you've suppressed. You remember daddy, don't you?"

"Don't you talk about my father." McGee snapped. The impostor shrugged.

"All that resentment. All that hate for the man who brought you into this world-."

"The man who beat me!"

"All that anger. Think about it. Think about how skilled you are. How capable at hacking you are. It's the reason you're on this Op. Just let me out, and I'll make us memorable."

"I am memorable."

"You're a child. And you know it. Hell, it took you so long to admit to Ziva you're feelings. Who waits that long, honestly? Who waits that fucking long?"

"It was the right thing to do."

"Right? You think you know what's goddamn right? I can't believe I have to be a part of you. I'd rather be a part of DiNozzo. At least he's not afraid. Or Gibbs. But I got stuck with you. It's like living in a house where you can't touch anything. You're a goddamn museum!"

"Go away." McGee whispered, almost too soft to be heard.

"What did you say?" The impostor narrowed his eyes as he took another drag.

"I said… go away."

"Well, I'm about to. Look over there."

The impostor turned and pointed in front of the ship. About 200 yards away, the ocean dropped.

"What is that?" McGee gasped.

"Whirlpool. Hope you can swim."

It was like someone had pulled a massive plug out from the bottom of the ocean. The boat was immediately pulled towards it as the waters circled around in an enormous loop, sinking and disappearing in the middle. McGee barely had time to react as the boat was pulled down and into the whirlpool. As the lifeboat careened down the side, just before it was swallowed up, McGee heard the fake McGee whisper. Oddly, despite the cacophonous sounds of the rapids, McGee heard the whisper inside his head.

"I'm never going away."

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><p>"Woh easy buddy!" Tony yelled. When McGee focused, he saw that Tony was holding onto his wrists. His hands were balled into fists and sweat was covering his body. Skrill sat in the corner, smoking a pipe.<p>

"Well, now I'm gon' have to wash mah sheets. You didn' wet yourself did ya?"

McGee looked around, confused. Tony tried immediately to fill in the blanks.

"You fell off the cargo containers, hit your head. This is Skrill. You've been out almost 9 hours. We're getting close McGee. How you feeling? You still good to continue?"

McGee thought of the fake McGee in his dream, and hated him.

"Yeah, I'm good to go. Just... had a weird dream."

"Well, you can tell us 'bout it later, Rook." Skrill said as he stood. "The crew's preppin' the CRRC. We'll be taking off soon. Put your clothes and your equipment on." McGee nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Tony tossed him his equipment.

"Jesus, Probie, you're always getting hurt!"

"Tell me about it."

Tony paused for a moment as he took a seat on the bed next to McGee.

"You really scared me McGee." Tony spoke quietly, looking deep into McGee's eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days. I swear to god."

McGee chuckled, and reached forward, squeezing Tony's shoulder.

"Thanks Tony." His eyes were sincere.

"Yep. I mean, can you imagine me trying to take on Mikhailov without you holding me back? And hell, someone's gotta listen to me mispronounce Fuchs name." Tony laughed. " I am soooo looking forward to that."

"Yeah, I was waiting for you to mention something like that."

"Ey! Boys! All set!" Skrill headed out of the room, swinging the large steel nautical door open.

"Oh ho! Rook, you doin' alright there yeah? Nasty bump yeh got there. You good to go?"

"Yeah Skrill, I'm all set."

"Right, let's go."

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><p>The three agents exited the room and Skrill led them down winding staircases and corridors into the hull of the ship. It became obvious, that while the 'Destrallius' was a fully functioning barge, it was a cover for a whole mess of Agency operations. Other agents walked around, nodding to the three. A few even shook McGee's and Tony's hands, and wished them luck.<p>

Skrill led them into the bottom of the boat. Inside it was a drydock with the CRRC resting on a grated floor. In front of the small inflatable boat was a large steel gate, obviously used for sending out and receiving CRRC's like theirs. There were crew members busily untying the boat from the hull of the barge as they prepped for launch. Skrill walked over to a table and pulled from it an AK-47 assault rifle. He cocked it, slung it across his back, then turned to the agents. Before he could speak Tony piped up.

"An AK-47? You serious Skrill? That gun's primitive."

"Oi, well it won't jam when it gets a wee bit of mud in it like yours will." Skrill shot back, smiling a toothy grin.

Both McGee and Tony looked down at their weapons, then each other.

"You got a couple more of those?" Tony asked.

"Of course!" Skrill opened an ammo box, pulled from it two assault rifles that had tormented the United States for years, and help unclip the agents from their previous guns. As he clipped them into the AK's, he laughed to himself.

"Probies." Skrill muttered. Tony looked shocked and McGee grinned at his partner.

"Not a word about that, Probie." Tony shot. McGee simply mock 'zipped' his lips.

"Shall we, ya love birds?" Skrill called as he stepped down onto the lowered grate floor next to the CRRC. McGee and Tony followed and climbed onto the sides of the tactical assault boat, straddling the inflated edges. They lay down, pointing their weapons towards the gate. Skrill jumped in as one of the crew members started the engine. With a loud creak, the gate opened and sea water flooded in. The boat rose immediately, floating on the churning water.

"All set?"

"Yep!"

"Hit it, Skrill!"

Skrill laughed, punched the motor, and the little boat sped out from the hull of the barge, skimming across the waves. Ahead of them, they could see the enormous green island ahead of them.

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><p><strong>WOOO! So, they'll be on the island soon! Gah i'm so excited to upload more! Reviews encourage me, that's for sure :)<strong>


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**WARNING: Contains Language... **

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><p>Ziva couldn't sleep, although she wasn't surprised. She lay in a nervous lump and listened to herself breathe. As she was beginning to close her eyes, she heard the bedroom door creak open. She froze, wondering why on earth she hadn't heard the front door open. <em>Is someone in the apartment?<em> She sat up slowly, pulling the blade from beneath her pillow as she squinted into the darkness.

"Oh Jethro! You scared me!" She scolded, letting out a deep sigh. The dog whined at her, his wise eyes watching her, and almost seeming to understand. Quickly, she jumped out of Tim's bed, blade in hand, and swept through the apartment just to be sure, Jethro at her heels the entire way. When she finally lay back down on the bed, she patted it, giving Jethro permission to join her. He padded across the comforter and licked her face happily.

"Jethro!" She laughed. The big dog looked at her for a moment, then turned and curled at the foot of the bed, his watchful eyes carefully observing her. She smiled at his protective nature. After all, even if he believed it or not, it matched his master's.

With a sigh, she curled into the covers, breathing in deeply Tim's scent. She loved his smell, and right now, it was one of the only things that made any progress in comforting her. Even though she smiled, a tear slid down her cheek as she pulled Tim's pillow against her body, draping an arm over it, as if it were her boyfriend's body.

* * *

><p><em>Almost done. <em>

Gibbs held one of the 32 pieces of wood up to the light.

_Only nine more. Tim's going to love this. All that's left is the nine, then polishing. _

Gibbs replaced the piece to the table, blew some sawdust off it, and glanced at the clock. 2:27am. He wasn't going to sleep tonight. He took a deep breath, then a sip of coffee. He didn't want the bourbon to affect his work, so he'd just drink coffee for an hour or so, then go back to bourbon. It was a flawless system that not only allowed him to stay up, but calm his nerves as well.

Gibbs lined the 23 complete pieces on the table, in their correct order, and stared at them with a perfectionists eye. _After all, these are for a perfectionist… God dammit Tim, you better come back. And DiNozzo, of course. You are my boys, and you better come back._

* * *

><p>Ducky sat by himself in his living room, a small fire crackling in the fireplace. It had been years, if not decades since he'd been up past 1 am, let alone 2. On his coffee table was a little wooden box. It's top was removed, and within it were decade old notes, letters, and black and white photos. Rising from the little box was the small of brass and perfume from bygone lovers. But that was not of importance at the moment.<p>

"Oh dear me, my brave boys. Come home safe." He whispered to himself, as he caressed the little piece of metal and ribbon in his hands.

It was a coin of silver, attached to a red and black striped ribbon that, even in it's old age, shown proudly. The coin itself was about and inch and a half in diameter, and the gleam of it had dulled a bit over the years. Ducky thought back to the few times he'd been in this situation, sitting in his living room late a night, remembering what this item entailed. He turned it over slowly, and read that backside.

"**FOR DISTINGUISHED CONDUCT IN THE FIELD"**

The old man sighed as he recalled his exciting past, and the things he'd done to receive the Distinguished Conduct Medal. As he stared at it, he thought of the boys, and wondered… no, knew that what they were doing right now should make them eligible (if they were part of the United Kingdom, of course) for their gallantry. _Oh, my dearest friends, I do hope you return to us unharmed, both mentally and physically._

* * *

><p>*Faaart*<p>

Abby squeezed Bert for what seemed like the hundredth time. The poor hippo was almost losing its stuffing, as Abby's tears dropped onto the coffin she was laying in. As she wiped her eyes, she thought of the little things she loved about the boys: the playful bickering, the kisses on the cheek, the look in Gibbs' eyes when he was almost too damn proud of them.

It had been almost a decade that she'd spent day in and day out with them, as they all experienced the worst and the best the world had to offer. She thought of how each of them had grown, matured, and came into their own (especially McGee). She smiled, remembering stuttering, nervous, fragile Timmy. Although he'd always be 'Timmy' in her heart, he was no longer immature or young. He had grown into a capable agent and a loyal, strong friend. Confidence replaced what once was fear, and sure-footedness replaced anxiety.

The memories between all of them, through McGee's hiring, to Kate's loss, to Ziva's introduction, to Gibbs retirement, and everything in between and after. They had learned each others' hopes and fears, senses of humor, breaking points, and nuances. _Good times. No, the best of times. God, Bert, I hope they come back…_


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**So, I figured I missed a couple days of uploading, so here's a second chapter for today! This weekend was super busy, but hope you all had a wonderful superbowl weekend!**

**Reviews = love :)**

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><p>"Aight Gents, I'll be dropping yeh off up that river. Mikhailov's compound is 'bout two miles to the West. You'll find it with good ole fashioned map 'n' compass work."<p>

Skrill spoke quietly as the little boat, under cover of the setting sun, approached an estuary that spilled into the ocean. He throttled the engine a bit as they made their way up the river, stooping under thick green vines and branches that hung low. McGee and DiNozzo had never seen such green. They'd obviously seen forests and plants before, but the true, pure, unbridled green of the Borneo rainforest put all that to shame.

A million cautious eyes of nocturnal animals just waking, peered out from behind the foliage, carefully inspecting the little rubber craft as it made it's way through the murky water. McGee and DiNozzo held their weapons to their cheeks as they scanned the muddy shores for any sign of a threat, while Skrill kept a watchful eye and guided the craft. Ahead, at a bend in the quiet river, there was a flat muddy bank, and Skrill nosed the CRRC onto it. The two NCIS agents hopped out, gathered their equipment onto their bodies, and turned to Skrill.

"Oi Gents, 'ere we are. I guess this is where we part. Best of luck to you. Take care of business."

The two agents nodded to Skrill as he backed the boat back into the river, and headed out the way they came. As he disappeared out of sight behind the thick brush, Tony and Tim turned to each other. They both screwed suppressors onto the barrels of their primary firearms. Without saying a word, McGee pulled out the digital tablet, orientated himself and pointed.

"That way."

"Got it, Tim." _Jesus, no backup. No backup. No backup. Cut that shit out DiNozzo! Shut up brain!_

It took them an hour or so to reach the outskirts of the compound. As the sun was setting, they pushed their way beneath branches and around vines. Both agents felt an unnerving feeling that all eyes were on them, but they told themselves that they were just animals. They were in awe at the majesty of the jungle, it's sheer unbridled force enveloping everything from boulders, to logs, to ruins of where man had once resided. But no more. For the most part, this was nature's domain, and they were trespassing. Multiple times, one of them would slip and fall on the slick mud, or sink into a hidden hole, only to be begrudgingly pulled out by the other. Finally, after much time of silence, they reached their destination. By that time, their black outfits were stained a deep greenish brown from the jungle and the mud. McGee had led them up the side of a low mountain to the North of the compound, and they lay down, perched on an outcropping between the trees. Below, under the rising moonlight and sounds of the nighttime animals, they watched.

The temple rose from the mountain on the West side of the valley, about 400 yards ahead of them. They were perched on the North side and could see the temple nestled in the mountainside to their right. Torches and flood lights illuminated the deep green valley, and men with rifles walked and lounged around, smoking cigarettes. McGee pulled out a pair of binoculars and fitted them to his eyes as Tony peered through the moonlight.

"Okay…" McGee breathed, "there's about 20… no 30 soldiers down there."

Tony nodded as McGee looked to his tablet. He tapped a few buttons, then frowned.

"Ethan didn't activate the virus." Tony turned, a look of disbelief on his face.

"You have GOT to be kidding me. Son of a bitch."

"No. It's in The Index, but it's not activated. We're going to have to go in. I think we-"

McGee stopped talking as he noticed something in the valley below. Mikhailov.

The Russian was standing far below them as he and another soldier argued. It was Dima.

There was a group of soldiers gathered around the two as Mikhailov's voice rose above the jungle canopy. While McGee couldn't make out what he was saying, it seemed the leader was mad about something. Dima was holding his hands up in front of him, trying to calm his commander, but it didn't seem to be working. McGee tensed as he saw Mikhailov punch Dima. Dima recoiled and held his jaw, glaring at his assailant. The other soldiers laughed at Dima, one held his hands in front of his face and mockingly licked his 'paws', just like a dog. Mikhailov shook his head, then tossed Dima a knife, then pointed to the temple. Dima, still rubbing his jaw, caught the blade, hesitated as he looked at it, then turned and made his way towards the temple. The group of soldiers burst into laughter, pointing at the larger man as he walked away, defeated. The McGee noticed Fuchs emerge from a tent beside a jeep. Fuchs and Mikhailov began talking, and McGee barely made out a grin. Mikhailov raised his pistol into the air and shot it and his men began to cheer. _The Index must be online. Or almost online._

"Tony, we need to get down there."

"McGee, it's suicide." McGee, shocked turned to his friend.

"I know, Tony, but we have to do this I- We have to prove we're strong." He corrected himself.

Tony cocked his head and looked puzzled.

"Alright McGee. I still have some grenades. I'll make a diversion down there. See to the left? Southeast side of the compound. I'm gonna blow that jeep, then you haul ass and meet me at the temple. We have to either activate the virus, or steal The Index. Either or."

McGee nodded as Tony pushed himself from the ground and disappeared into the thick jungle to the left.

Then off to McGee's right, he heard a twig snap.

McGee froze, and slowly gripped his silenced submachine gun. Off to his right, he could hear what sounded like something coming towards him. _It's just an animal, it's just an animal, it's just an animal._

McGee pushed himself up slowly, but stayed in a crouched position as he turned to his right and pulled the weapon to his cheek. He could see the luminescent green dots of his submachine gun's sights as he steadied it in the direction the noise was coming from. That's when he noticed a tiny trail that led through where he was crouched. He looked down quickly at the mud he lay on. Boot tracks. _Shit._

Just as he was looking up from the ground, a tiny flashlight swept over him. McGee's eyes locked with one of the soldiers, doing a patrol in the surrounding hills. The soldiers rifle was slung around his back, and all that was in his hands was the light. With his finger still on the trigger, McGee took his hand off the foregrip of the gun, and put a finger up to his lips, in a 'shhhh' gesture. The soldier stared at McGee, his eyes wide as he contemplated what to do. He turned his head slightly, and McGee heard the sound of someone else behind the soldier with the light.

And in a flash, the soldier dropped the flashlight, as he reached back and grasped his rifle.

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><p><strong><strong>**Thanks for reading! As always, I'm very appreciative to anyone reading this. Hope you all have had a good monday and an even better rest of the week!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**Warning: Contains language and intense moments of violence.**

* * *

><p>The Russian guard swung the gun forward and McGee pulled the trigger. The three round burst of the submachine gun sent three well aimed bullets through left side of the soldiers chest, tearing through his heart. The soldier fell without a sound. McGee's hands began to shake as he heard one… no two voices deeper in the bushes behind the dead soldier. McGee, still crouching, made his way over to the soldier and hid behind a tree, steadying his gun against the trunk. He heard Russian voices, and then saw them come around a bend, stooping around the dangling vines. They immediately saw the body of their fallen comrade. As the first raised his rifle, a single lead round tore its way through his forehead. The second flinched as he pulled out a radio, and turned and ran back the way he came. Just as he clicked the receiver, and almost disappeared around the bend, McGee steadied the sights on his back, and pulled the trigger. The man fell into a silent heap as blood began pooling on his back.<p>

McGee stared, his heart pounding and his hands shaking as he looked at the three men he had just killed. His gut swirled with emotions. _I had to. They would have killed me. They would have killed me._

He took a deep breath, and made his way to the soldier he had shot in the back. McGee gasped. He was still moving. In an obviously labored effort, the man lay, his blood spilling from his body, as he pulled the radio slowly towards his mouth, dragging it through the mud as he groaned. McGee knew what needed to be done, but before he made up his mind, a voice pierced his thoughts.

_Go on. You shot him in the back. Right there. Shoot him now, in the back of the head. You know you want to. Do it! _

McGee frowned and shook his head, but the voice continued as the radio came closer and closer as blood spilled from the wounded man's mouth.

_You want to be strong don't you? Do it! I'm not the impostor, you are. Now put a round in his fucking skull and end it. You know it'll feel good._

A tear ran down McGee's face. He knew he had to. He or Tony could be killed if the man radioed Mikhailov. McGee's lip quivered as he held out his weapon, paused to look at the man, then pulled the trigger. McGee was ripped from the moment as an enormous explosion boomed through the valley. Birds that had been perched silently erupted into a cacophony of shrieks as they flew from the noise. As the birds called, McGee heard a yelling in Russian from below, and McGee stepped over his victim, and sprinted down the trail towards the temple.

* * *

><p>Tony had successfully made his way around the encampment, using the thick jungle as his cover. Despite the full moon that was steadily rising, he had advanced undetected to the perimeter. He nodded in satisfaction to himself as he assessed his position. About 15 yards in front of him was an unattended jeep, conveniently with four 5-gallon gasoline cans piled at the rear. DiNozzo looked up towards the mountainside where McGee was, and held his breath. <em>Shit shit shit shit.<em>

Tony could see a flashlight winding its way up the forested mountainside and stop. Before Tony could speak into his intercom to warn McGee, he saw several concealed flashes from a firearm. Upon not hearing the report echoing across that valley, Tony took a deep breath. _Those were silenced shots. Must have been McGee. Had to be. _

Tony pulled a fragmentation grenade from his tactical vest, removed the pin, and tossed it towards the jeep. It came to a stop right against the gas cans. _Bullseye! _

Tony turned and began sprinting through the jungle away from the jeep in the direction of the temple, but on the outskirts of the compound.

* * *

><p><em>Run like hell! Run like hell! Run like hell!<em>

McGee encouraged himself as he half sprinted half stumbled down the slick jungle trail. He leapt over fallen branches and weaved between vines. He almost fell as gravity carried him faster than his legs would. As he slowed, he heard in his earpiece.

"Rook, you good? Saw some flashes."

_Tell him you're fine_, the voice said.

"I'm fine Tony."

"Ok, good. Meet you at the temple, north side. I… yeah I can see all the guards heading towards the jeep."

"Copy that."

McGee followed the trail, through the jungle to an opening. The trail led out onto a rough dirt (or mud) road that led into the compound from the North. There was no one guarding it, so he slowed to a jog and pulled his gun to his cheek.

He entered the compound and immediately saw the temple. Whatever Tony had done, it had worked even more to their favor than they could have hoped. The explosion must have destroyed a generator as well, as many of the flood lights set up around the camp flickered and went out. While the compound was not in complete darkness, and the moonlight proved an enemy, everything was darker then they had expected.

He hugged the darkest shadows, making his way to the side of the temple. As he approached it, he realized how foreboding it was. All he'd seen were grainy black and white ariel photos of the temple, but as he reached it, it nearly took his breath away. Vines wound their way up the walls and stairway of the cracked and faded yellow stone. Symbols were carved into the sides of the enormous blocks that the indigenous people used to construct it. It stood like a tombstone; epitaph of a bygone world. It seemed to be all that was left of probably a proud and prosperous people. A people that was no more. The thought made Tim shudder, as he thought of his own mortality.

McGee hit the wall of the temple, then crouched. Aiming his submachine gun East, where he could see Mikhailov and the reast of the soldiers trying to put out the blaze and get most of the lights back on. _Where the hell is Tony?_

McGee's question was answered as directly behind him, Tony came gracefully tumbling out of a wall of thick jungle bushes.

"Woah buddy!" Tony put his hands up as McGee whipped around, aiming his gun right at his friend's head. McGee held the gun for a moment, before slowly lowering it. Tony's eyebrows rose slowly. He watched as McGee's eyes drifted, darted around. His hands were shaking and there was a wild and fearful look in his eyes.

McGee saw Tony's puzzled, yet also frightened expression. _You almost killed your friend here McGee. Would have been as easy as shooting the guard in the back. A tiny piece of metal, a trigger is, but it's changed the world. And it can change yours too, if you let me out._

McGee shook his head, and DiNozzo smiled when he saw the same McGee in those eyes (albeit fear and anxiety, but that was understandable given the situation).

"Let's get in there Orion." McGee panted as he gripped Tony's shoulder and squeezed it, knowing that the older agent saw something in his eyes. McGee tried to reassure Tony that whatever that was, it was under control. Tony nodded, the spark of excitement replacing the utter fear he had just had with his best friend's barrel between his eyes.

"Let's do this Probalicious. Rock and roll!"

* * *

><p>The two agents headed East along the North wall of the temple, then at the corner turned South and bounded up the steps of the temple. Aside from moonlight, the only illuminated section of the temple was the entrance at the top of the decaying stone stairs. Tony and Tim were through it in an instant. Just as they entered, Tony looked back, smiling to himself. His diversion had worked perfectly. Almost all the soldiers were occupied with the fire, but they did not see Mikhailov.<p>

Tony took the lead as McGee traced the cables that wound through the halls. Thankfully, the halls were mostly empty, save for a computer technician or two. Thankfully, Mikhailov's brute force against the technicians had weakened their loyalty, as the technicians seemingly welcomed the agents into the temple.

"Ok ok ok…" McGee spoke tom himself as he traced the cables along the floor, then pulled the tablet from his tactical vest. He pulled up the map of the temple quickly, and looked at the blueprints and found Ethan's station. _That's where hub for The Index will be. _

"Alright Orion, just down this long hall." McGee whispered as the made a left, going deeper into the temple towards Ethan's computer station. The flickering lightbulbs painted ominous caricatures on the yellow stone as the agents headed along.

"I can see it! Just ahead an-"

Tony stopped mid word as an enormous arm reached out of a door to their left in the hallway wall, flattening the agent. Tony hit the ground with a thud, his head slamming against the stone floor with force. McGee barely had time to react when the owner of the arm appeared in the hallway. Dima knocked McGee's submachine gun from his grip, then cocked back and swung. McGee ducked the swinging arm, and before he knew what was happening, he rotated, balling his left hand into a fist, and swung with all his might into the enormous man's abdomen. Dima grunted, but in a flash grabbed McGee's wrist with one hand and slammed it into the wall. He then, with McGee pinned to the wall, booted the side of Tony's head as the other agent tried to get up. Tony was unconscious in an instant as he slumped against the wall.

Dima place both his hands under McGee's arms, and hefted him up, just as he had to Ethan. McGee, though terrified of this enormous beast of a man, turned his head to look past him. Just down the hall, he could see Ethan's work station. _We were so close. God dammit! _

Rage rose within McGee and he began to viciously assail Dima with blows to the face. Dima dodged the blows, and with one motion, pulled McGee off the wall towards him, then slammed him back, McGee's head snapping into the wall.

Dima dropped the unconscious agent to the floor, then looked into the room that he had come from. Ethan still sat tied to the chair, but he'd stopped bleeding and was stirring slightly. Dima easily tossed the limp agents into the room, and shut the door behind him.

Dima smiled to himself, but it wasn't a smile of happiness. No, it was simply a smile of completing one's duty. But as the enormous man headed out of the temple to inform Mikhailov, a voice in the back of his head made him hesitate. It kept repeating the same phrase, uttered by Ethan some time before.

"Are you a good man?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

**Sorry this chapter is kind of short, but I was itching, ITCHING I TELL YOU, to upload another chapter. We're nearing the end, and I hope you've enjoyed this, but there is still alot to go! WOOO! Again, thank all of you for reviewing! I may not be able to upload for the next couple days (trip to sanfran, woohoo!), but I hope this gets you by :)**

**WARNING: Contains Language**

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><p>Gibbs looked up from the last piece and cursed himself. A sudden shiver sent shudders through his body, causing him to snap a piece off of the little piece of wood. <em>Dammit.<em>

He held it up to the light and rotated it. No, the piece was irreparable. A good chunk of the top of the little thing had snapped off. _Oh well, Tim will love it anyway. _Gibbs sighed as he put the piece down and filled his jar up with some bourbon. He put the liquid down as a feeling came over him. As soon as he felt it, he knew something was up. His gut was churning. _Something's not right. _

He picked up his phone, flipped it open, and dialed a number.

"This is Kort."

"Kort. It's Gibbs. Where are you?"

"At Bolling, prepping the extraction team."

"I'm coming over there."

"Gibbs it's-."

"I'm on my way." Gibbs snapped his phone shut as he shook his head. Kort was currently preparing to head to Pearl Harbor, where they'd then rendezvous with the USS Ronal Reagan that was off the coast of Indonesia in the Pacific Ocean. From there, as Kort had informed Gibbs, a special operations extraction team would board a HH-60G Pave Hawk extraction helicopter when the agents activated the GPS transmitter when the mission was complete. When Kort told Gibbs the type of helicopter used for pickup of his boys, he almost flinched. The HH-60G Pave Hawk was used for recovery of personel under incredibly stressful and hostile conditions.

As Gibbs pulled his sniper rifle and ammunition from the drawer in his toolchest, he nodded to himself. _I will be on that helicopter._

* * *

><p><em><strong>8 HOURS LATER<strong>_

"Uuuunnnnggh" Tony felt like he'd been run over by a truck. He tried to rub his eyes and face, but realized that his wrists were bound to a chair. He began moving more realizing his ankles too were tied tight, and the chair wouldn't budge. As his eyes began seeing more clearly, he took in his surroundings.

He was within a room inside the temple. There was no light, save for a flickering suspended light bulb. He was facing a large wooden door. On the floor were two cables that lay haphazardly in a bundle, and in the corner was a medical instrument table with an assortment of tools. Beside him to his right, there was another man tied to a chair. It was obvious he had been tortured, but alive. Tony saw that the little finger on his left hand was missing, and there was a dark red, almost black bandage over it. _Oh shit, Tim!_

DiNozzo craned his neck to see past the other man, and breathed a tiny sigh of relief. McGee was on the other side of the man. Both, almost simultaneously, began moving. _At least McGee's not dead. I'd have killed every last fucker in this place if he was._

"Orion?" The man in the middle asked, then coughed, then spat a glob of spit on the floor.

"Yeah." Tony responded. "You Ethan."

"I was." The other man replied in a somber tone. He was having trouble holding his head straight, so he just let it fall to his chest as he looked to his left at Tony.

"Jesus Ethan, what happened to you?"

"You did. That's what." Ethan snapped. Tony didn't know how to reply to that. Then he heard McGee mumble and the sound of Tim pulling against his restraints. Thankfully, they were alone in the room. For now.

"Rook! Rook!" Tony whispered as loud as he could. "Aw fuck it. McGee! Tim!"

McGee didn't respond, aside from nonsensical groaning, and Ethan began speaking.

"They know your names, Tony. They know everything."

"How do they know?" Tony snapped, his eyes conveying disbelief and betrayal.

"Have you seen me? You see what those fuckers did to me?" Ethan shot back, summoning strength to lift his head and glare at Tony.

"Yeah, I see you. That bad huh?"

"You have no idea. You better pray they just shoot you. I'm fucking serious, Tony. Pray they shoot you."

Tony shuddered and pulled against his restraints.

"T-Tony?"

"McGee!" Tony's heart jumped when he heard McGee's voice. "You okay bud?"

"Uuuh no. I feel like… my head hurts. Again."

"Stay with us bud. Stay awake." Tony worriedly called, but Ethan laughed and shook his head.

"No, let him pass out. If he dies right now it'll be better for him. Trust me."

"Shut it Ethan." Tony snapped, realizing he didn't find much favor for the C.I.A. agent. But at that Ethan turned as much as his body could against his restraints, boring holes through Tony's skull.

"Is there another team?" Ethan asked. Tony shook his head, then Ethan started laughing again, then spat more blood, coughing.

"It'sss all fucked. No other team? We're fucked. It's all fucked."

"Come on, Ethan. Don't talk like that." Tony responded, trying to sound sympathetic. McGee was now blinking each eye individually and shaking his jaw from left to right as if something felt loose.

"Guys… I think my jaw is broken." McGee stammered finally, but Ethan ignored him as he shot venom at Tony.

"You don't get it, do you? Fucking send NCIS Special Agents. Good fucking idea Kort! You have no idea, do you Tony?" Tony looked at Ethan questioningly.

"About what?" he replied, pulling against the leather straps. Ethan began laughing, but it was like something neither Tony nor Tim had ever heard before. It was a laugh of desperation and acceptance of circumstances. It was a laugh of fear and failure.

"The Index. You don't know what it is?" Both McGee and DiNozzo shook their heads. Ethan laughed even louder.

"Oh that's good. That's fucking classic. You wanna know? I'll tell you what The Index is."

* * *

><p><strong>And because I love you readers (and won't be able to upload again for a couple days), here's a little teaser for the next chapter:<strong>

McGee fearfully looked to Tony and met reassuring eyes. Mikhailov nodded to Fuchs, and the German turned to the bundle, and pulled from it a large leather belt. He folded it in half as he approached McGee.

McGee's face went white as Mikhailov laughed.

"I found out about you, McGee. Your daddy didn't like you so much, did he? Was it because you are failure? Was it because you are not strong? Maybe it's because he never loved you."

Tears immediately fell from McGee's eyes as he stared at his feet, shaking his head.

"No." he muttered.

"Oh yes! Daddy didn't love you!" Mikhailov snarled as Fuchs began beating McGee with the belt. When McGee had been tortured by Sharif, ages and ages ago, he hadn't cried out for the longest time during it. But as soon as the leather made contact with McGee, the young man began groaning, crying, whining even. And it churned Tony's blood.

**Ok, I'm sorry for that, but hey, it might make you even more eager to read further and see what happens! **


	25. Chapter 25

**Hey All! Sorry I haven't uploaded in a while, life just got pretty busy. But here is Chapter 25! Reviews = Love!**

**By the way, have to say, this chapter has very intense moments. EXTREME LANGUAGE AND TORTURE. Just so you know...**

**And the language may seem very, VERY harsh, but I have to imagine if anyone is in a situation like this, being polite would not be their first course of action...**

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><p><strong><strong>Ethan shook his head. "You really wanna know what The Index is?"

...

"It's online, first of all. The Index is nuke codes. That's why he's connected to the major military nations' operation command centers. The Pentagon, The Kremlin and all that. We're gonna nuke ourselves."

McGee stared wide eyed at Ethan, and Tony simply stared, muttering a silent "No" under his breath. Ethan continued.

"Oh yeah. I don't know how many, but it's gonna be global fireworks. All major cities are gonna go down. But that fucker's got it all figured out. As soon as the nukes launch, he's got a virus that's gonna shut down all the electricity. The entire first world is going to go dark. Without electricity, our anti-missile technology won't be able to knock the nukes down. Not to mention the civilian affect. For those who survive, they're be no more electricity, cause after the nukes, there's no way to go back online. No more refrigeration, communication, or transportation. But hey, let's say the nukes don't fire. You still got mass blackouts, and they're gonna be for good. Grocery stores can't refrigerate their food anymore, so there's gonna be a famine. People are gonna start killing each other for food. And medications. Think about the hospitals. Alot of meds need to be kept cold. You're gonna have family members of people who's meds have gone bad, with guns, demanding medical attention. They're not gonna get it, and people are gonna start shooting. It's gonna be a fucking blood bath."

Ethan remembered what Mikhailov told him a day or so ago, and it all made sense.

"Animal, Ethan? Ve are all animals. You, I, all of us. It is the animal in man, that allows us to prevail. Ve are primal beings, who live in a sedentary lethargic, and apathetic vorld. Ve sit at our televisions and take vor granted the life ve've been given. That's vhy I created The Index, Ethan. The Index vill allow us to be animals again. To be vat ve are meant to be. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Ve are all ashes, Ethan."

* * *

><p>Ethan simply shook his head, then let it drop to his chest again. Tony stared blankly at the far wall and McGee shared the same look, but only at the ceiling. <em>We need to stop him,<em> the two agents thought collectively. McGee, who's head was no longer swimming so bad, began looking around him frantically, trying to find any weakness or leverage point he could use to free himself. As he was doing that though, the door swung open, and Dima and Fuchs walked in, followed by Leonid Mikhailov himself.

The evil man began laughing and grinning wildly as he rubbed his hands together. He was almost salivating at this opportunity, and it turned McGee's stomach. The younger agent couldn't control it, and leaned forward, vomiting onto the floor. Mikhailov slammed the door shut behind him. Fuchs carefully placed a bundle of something on the floor, and McGee strained to see, but failed to identify what it was. He frantically threw a look to Tony, mentally asking the older agent. _No backup?_

Tony, as if understanding, shook his head as sweat dripped from his nose. And finally, Mikhailov spoke.

"Vell vell. Anthony DiNozzo and Timothy McGee. I've heard quite a bit about you, thanks to Ethan here." Both Tony and McGee shot Ethan a look that could kill, but Ethan was unconscious again, or at least playing dead.

"You should know-." Mikhailov began but Tony interrupted him.

"You know, you're like the scumbag serial killers I put away for a living. You sick fuck. I heard what The Index. Mickey, would your mother approve?" Tony joked, doing his best to sound confident. Mikhailov looked at him curiously.

"Mickey?"

"Yeah Mickey. Like Mickey Mouse. You're just a little fucking rodent. You ever watch Mickey mouse, or did they not have that in the orphanage insane asylum you grew up in?"

At that, Mikhailov bellowed, pulled his pistol from his holster smashed it across DiNozzo's cheek repeatedly. When he stopped, he looked at Tony's limp head with satisfaction. But that satisfaction dissipated when he heard McGee from the other side of the room. As he spoke, McGee couldn't believe his own ears.

"Hey Mickey, that make you feel big? Beating a man who's tied up? I'd be proud of myself for that." McGee even chuckled sarcastically as he glared at the man who had just pistol whipped his best friend. Mikhailov ran to McGee and inflicted the same punishment on the younger agent. When he stopped, Mickhailov couldn't believe what he heard. But this time, it was from Ethan.

"Do I get a go, Mickey?" The C.I.A. agent muttered. Mikhailov ran to him and beat him as well, as Dima and Fuchs watched in shocked amusement.

"Thank you sir, may I have *cough* another?" Ethan quipped, then spat on Mikhailov's face, blood getting in his mouth. Mikhailov spat it out, wiping his mouth. The Russian's eyes bulged when he heard Tony again.

"Seriously, I thought my childhood was bad Mickey. What about Fucks over there, does he get a turn?" At that Ethan's eyes bulged, catching the attention of Tony. Tony gulped.

"Ummm, not the right thing to say Ethan? Well shit." The German glared at Tony.

"Es not Fucks! Es Fuchs. Foooocks!"

"Ok Fucks." Tony chuckled.

"Fuchs!"

"Fucks!" The doctor whipped his head around and saw McGee grinning through a mouthful of blood.

"Must have been a terrible last name to grow up with," McGee chuckled. His chuckle died down when he saw a certain gleam in the German's eyes. McGee fearfully looked to Tony and met reassuring eyes. Mikhailov nodded to Fuchs, and the German turned to the bundle, and pulled from it a large leather belt. He folded it in half as he approached McGee.

McGee's face went white as Mikhailov laughed.

"I found out about you, McGee. Your daddy didn't like you so much, did he? Was it because you were failure? Was it because you are not strong? Maybe it's because he never loved you."

Tears immediately fell from McGee's eyes as he stared at his feet, shaking his head.

"No." he muttered.

"Oh yes! Daddy didn't love you!" Mikhailov snarled as Fuchs began beating McGee with the belt. When McGee had been tortured by Sharif, ages and ages ago, he hadn't cried out for the longest time during it. But as soon as the leather made contact with McGee, the young man began groaning, crying, whining even. It churned Tony's blood.

It was something Tony had never seen nor heard before. He had experienced McGee at low points before, specifically at Gibbs' when the whole Sharif ordeal had surfaced, but this was something else. And in that moment, Tony knew what his role was to McGee. Tony was McGee's older, protective brother. This went beyond best friends, and while Tony had called McGee brother, to see him like this grew a rage within him that he didn't know existed.

Tony, in every sense of the word, roared as he flexed every muscle in his body. His hands were clenched so hard that blood began dripping from his palms from his fingernails. His eyes shot to Fuchs, who had stopped whipping McGee at the sheer shock of the sound Tony made.

"You fucker! Get the fuck away from him! You're a fucking coward Fucks! A FUCKING COWARD! Scumbag piece of shit! Get over here. I'm going to fuck you up so bad I'm gonna send you back to the stone age you weaselly piece of shit! AAAAAHHHH!"

Tony was pushing so hard that the front legs of his chair, that had been nailed to the floor, pulled loose. Tony toppled over backwards and immediately slid his ankles down the legs of the chair, freeing his legs. He kicked himself over as Mikhailov rushed over to him and grabbed his shoulders. Tony headbutted the Russian with all his might and Mikhailov stumbled backwards.

"Dima! Dima, hold him you dog!" Mikhailov hissed as he held his now bleeding forehead.

Dima hesitated, then moved swiftly to his masters side and grabbed hold of Tony. He picked the man up, chair and all, and placed him upright again. Mikhailov sprinted over to McGee, drew his pistol again, and jammed the barrel against McGee's skull.

"You vant him to die? Eh Tony? You vant your friend to die?" Tony panted as he glared at Mikhailov.

"He's not my friend. He's my brother." Tony snarled as he spat at Mikhailov. The Russian cocked the trigger back and laughed.

"You see Tony, Ethan, and Tim. The Index is almost connected. A mere minutes an-."

Just then a soldier opened the door. Mikhailov gave him a death glare for interrupting.

"Apologies sir, but it's connected. The Index, sir, is online. We've patched into The Pentagon." Mikhailov nodded, smiling as the soldier disappeared. The Russian laughed and bludgeoned McGee once more on the cheek with his pistol.

"You- *cough* leave him alone." Ethan all but vomited the words.

"You- *cough* a fucking animal. And after all this is *cough* is over… no… no one will *cough* remember your name. You will be *cough* dust. I *cough* curse your name, Leonid Mikhailov. I *cough* curse your name."

With a roar, Mikhailov snatched the belt from Fuchs, and began beating the already beaten Ethan. He let go of the buckle, letting it sail, the steel at the end of the belt slicing across Ethan's face. Mikhailov stopped for a moment, gripped his pistol, aimed it at Ethan's chest, and pulled the trigger.

Tony and McGee (who had been sitting silently sniffling) sat bolt upright at the sound. Everything moved in slow motion. The force of the round going through Ethan's chest, and his involuntary reaction forced his torso back through the chair. It splintered into pieces as Ethan fell to the ground. Everyone's ears rang from the gunshot as Mikhailov laughed in satisfaction.

Then from the corner, came a noise louder than the gunshot. Dima made all the screams and cries within the room previously seem like whispers as he launched himself at Mikhailov. The larger man wrapped his enormous arms around Mikhailov as they slammed into the floor and began rolling around snarling. Fuchs was unsure what to do, and panicked. Before he could open the door though, Tony stood and ran, still with the chair attached to his wrists, and all but tackled Fuchs. Ethan lay coughing blood onto the floor as he writhed in pain.

Dima quickly overpowered his master, took the belt and wrapped it around his wrists so tight the circulation left his hands. Dima then wrenched the pistol from Leo's grasp and placed it against his skull.

Mikhailov immediately stopped struggling.

"Both of you, in the corner, now!" Dima screamed. Fuchs and Mikhailov consented, both in awe of what was happening.

"Diiiiima…" Mikhailov warned.

"Shut up! Shut! Up!" Dima yelled as he pulled a knife from his belt. While keeping the pistol trained on Fuchs and Michailov, he quickly cut Ethan, Tony, and McGee's restraints. He then went to the bundle, and pulled from it Tony's and McGee's weapons.

"They were going to shoot you with your own weapons." He whispered to them as he handed them the guns.

As soon as McGee had the weapon though, he looked at it. He felt the cuts that the belt buckle made, and the all too familiar sting of the leather against his skin. And then, McGee felt something writhe within him. It was like some terrifying beast was disturbed of slumber in his gut. McGee looked at Fuchs, the man who'd assailed him with the belt, and his vision faded to savage blood red. He aimed the gun at Fuchs.

"In the chair." he whispered, his eyes ablaze.

"McGee." Tony called to him, but McGee ignored him.

"In the FUCKING CHAIR FUCHS!" McGee snarled as the voice inside his head whispered. _Good, McGee. Get out the anger. That's it. Show them all that you're strong._

Fuchs hesitated, but when he heard McGee rack the bolt on his submachine gun, he hurried and sat in the chair.

"McGee we have to-." Tony pleaded, but was cut off as McGee turned to him.

"Shut up!" McGee ordered Tony. The older agent was in disbelief as Tim pushed the suppressor of his submachine gun into Fuchs' mouth. Tony held his gun in the direction of Mikhailov as Dima ran to Ethan's side. McGee spoke, in a hissing whisper to the doctor.

"You think you're strong? You think you're fucking strong?" McGee yelled as he ran over to Mikhailov, drove the weapon into his gut, and pulled the belt from his wrists. He then turned, and with everything in him, McGee started whipping Fuchs. Blood began gushing from Fuchs face and head as the belt buckle sank into his skull. He held up his hands in surrender, but McGee kept whipping him. Tony didn't know whether to watch Mikhailov or McGee, frantically looking from the Russian leader, to his partner, to Ethan writhing on the floor with Dima at his side.

"You!"

***whip***

"Fucking!"

***whip***

"Monster!" McGee screamed as sweat and tears rolled down his face like a torrent, mixing with the blood. Dima saw Fuchs slump, and stood, ran to McGee, and wrapped his enormous arms around him, restraining him. Fuchs fell from the chair in a bloody heap, gasping for breath. McGee, also collapsed, sobbing as he clutched the belt. Tony and Dima looked to each other, not sure what to do. Dima finally spoke.

"Ve need to stop The Index!" Tony nodded and turned just in time to see McGee cradle his weapon and squeeze the trigger. The gun hissed as a bullet tore through Fuchs' head. The German stopped convulsing as blood poured from the open wound.

"Jesus Christ Tim!" Tony called as Dima picked up McGee.

"Tim! Ve need to go! Ve need to go now!" The big Russian yelled in his face. McGee nodded as the fire in his eyes died down. Tony looked at Tim, finally seeing something that resembled the old McGee. As they prepared to leave, Dima walked slowly to the cowering Mikhailov.

"I am not your fucking puppy dog." the big man seethed as he raised the pistol, and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through Mikhailov's skull.

Dima turned to Ethan and stooped down as Ethan writhed on the ground.

"You vill make it, my friend. You vill make it!" Dima said as he hoisted Ethan onto his shoulders. And with that, he pulled the door open and headed into the hallway, with McGee and DiNozzo taking up the rear.

"Ve need to stop The Index!"


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

**WARNING: CONTAINS LANGUAGE**

* * *

><p>Gibbs, Kort, and a high stress extraction team boarded the HH-60G Pave Hawk. Without delay, it lifted from the deck of the USS Ronald Reagan, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. On the way, Gibbs had called his team, including Abby, Ducky and Vance, informing them that they were on the way. They were instructed to wait for Gibbs second call, where he'd inform them to meet at Bolling Air Force base for their return. Gibbs grimly clutched his sniper rifle close as the helicopter swiftly soared over the Pacific Ocean towards Borneo.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>THE KREMLIN<strong>

A technician within the Russian Nuclear Defense Department took a sip of coffee. He reclined in his chair in the enormous room. It was the size of a large theater, and the entire front wall was a digital high definition screen with a map of the world on it. On the map were countless little green and yellow dots. Covering all of Russia, there was a translucent blue circle. The technician spit out his coffee onto his desk as large red Russian letters scrolled across the top of the map, and the green dots turned red and began blinking. The words (in Russian) read as a siren began sounding:

*****THERMONUCLEAR DEFENSE INITIATED*****

*****ACTIVATION IN PROGRESS*****

*****TARGETS ACQUIRED*****

*****FAILSAFE TRIGGER ACTIVATED*****

*****CONFIRMATION IN PROGRESS...*****

Frantically, the technician called to his other shocked colleagues, who began furiously typing on their computers. One picked up a phone, and all but screamed in Russian into the phone.

"General! General! We've been compromised! Someone's got control of our nukes! Yes sir? Yes sir? Targets? They're aimed fucking everywhere!"

* * *

><p><strong>THE PENTAGON<strong>

"Mr. Secretary! You have to see this! I'll patch you in!" An American technician in the subterranean combat room of The Pentagon yelled into the phone as he typed at his computer, attempting to gain control of the thermonuclear warheads.

The Secretary of Defense sprinted down the steps, flashing his ID to the guards as the doors opened to The Pentagon combat room. As soon as he entered, he gasped. Sirens were going off and men in suits ran too and fro. Many yelled into phones. He spied the General of Operations of the Pentagon. As he approached him, he noticed him holding a red telephone. Sweat dripped from his brow as he called into the phone.

"I don't give a shit what he's doing right now, we've got a verified thermonuclear threat from Russia, China, Korea, and India! Get the President airborne now, God dammit!" Then the General paused and watched in horror as across the American screen large red words flashed.

*****THERMONUCLEAR COUNTERATTACK INITIATIVE ACTIVATED*****

*****COUNTERSTRIKE IN PROGRESS*****

*****3… 2… 1…*****

*****COUNTERMEASURES ACTIVE*****

*****SILOS ONLINE*****

*****SILOS INITIATED*****

*****SILOS ACTIVATING*****

*****23% PROGRESS*****

*****45% PROGRESS*****

*****79% PROGRESS*****

*****100% PROGRESS*****

*****SILOS ACTIVE. SILOS ACTIVE*****

*****ACTIVATING REMOTE COMBAT THERMONUCLEAR STRIKE*****

*****THIS IS NOT A DRILL*****

The Secretary watched in awe as the technicians tried helplessly to gain control of their nukes.

* * *

><p><strong>25 MILES NORTH OF HOOPER BAY, ALASKA, U.S.A<strong>

Two Army Military Policemen stood chatting at the entrance gate of the Alaskan Missile Silo Counter-Offense Base.

"God I hate the cold." The taller one said to the other as he pulled his beanie lower on his brow.

"You know something? You bitch all the time about the cold! This is Alaska man! Alaska isn't exactly the smartest place to work if you don't like the cold, Santio."

Santio shrugged, then lit a cigarette, exhaling the smoke as he shook his head.

"Not like the Army listens to requests regarding temperature, Deek."

"Or any requests, for that matter." Deek responded and both chuckled.

"You know Deek, I just want to get-."

Santio was cut off as a siren began sounding throughout the missile installation. He turned to Deek, a confused look on his face. Deek returned the look.

"We're not scheduled for a test today, are we?"

"Hell if I know."

The duo turned around, facing the base. They saw men running from the barracks and enter through the metal doors that led down to the missile silos. As the siren wailed, an automated voice answered their questions.

"**THERMONUCLEAR WARHEADS ONLINE. SILO DOORS OPENING. KEEP CLEAR. THIS IS NOT A TEST. THERMONUCLEAR WARHEADS ONLINE. SILO DOORS OPENING. KEEP CLEAR. THIS IS NOT A TEST."**

The cigarette tumbled in slow motion from Santio's hand as he and Deek watched the thick steel doors of the thermonuclear missile silos began opening slowly, smoke pouring from the mouths of the silos as the felt the ground rumble from the rockets warming up.

"Mother of God…" Santio whispered as Deek crossed himself.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 27 soon...<strong>


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27...**

**Almost there.**

**WARNING: Contains language and violence.**

* * *

><p>Dima, with Ethan slung over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, held onto the agent with his left hand, and in his enormous right, single handedly carried his AK-47. McGee aimed around the big man, and DiNozzo jogged sideways, keeping his rifle trained behind them.<p>

"Here it is!" Dima called, as they reached Ethan's station. McGee quickly placed his weapon on the desk and began typing. Dima lay the coughing Ethan against the wall and aimed his rifle down one hallway, as Tony aimed his down the direction they had just come. The flickering lights made it difficult to see any of Mikhailov's men entering, and the room they were in was well illuminated. Dima reached up and slapped the lightbulb with the barrel of his gun, plunging the room into darkness. _That vill give us better cover._ _Please Ethan, hold on!_

McGee pulled from his tactical vest a flash drive. At least Mikhailov had overseen taking it from him. He inserted it into the side of the computer and accessed The Index. _Ok… Ok… here we go…_

"Contact!" Tony screamed as he let loose a volley of rounds at the soldiers advancing through the hallway.

"Dima cover!"

Dima spun around and unloaded an entire magazine down the hallway. 30 rounds tore through bodies of his former comrades; the ones that had mocked him at every turn. The ones that made fun of him. The ones who had no respect for him. As he fired, Tony pulled a fragmentation grenade from his vest and threw a fastball down the hall. It skipped off the floor, bouncing over bodies. Another group of soldiers made their way into the flickering stone hallway, only to be deafened by the blast, the concussion and shrapnel sending them careening backwards and to the floor.

"Today McGee!" Tony called as he covered Dima as the Russian reloaded. Ethan even, holding Mikhailov's pistol fired several rounds down the hallway, claiming his targets as blood still pooled around his chest.

"Ok, almost there. I'm gonna activate the virus first. Then pull it out onto the flash drive… Oh shit! Tony! It's already activated!" McGee typed despite his shaking hands.

"The virus? Good!"

"No! The Index! I have to shut it down!" McGee clenched his teeth as he began pulling from The Index the information needed to hurdle the failsafe and stop the operation. Everything depended on it. Everything.

* * *

><p>Tony continued shooting and Dima came to his assistance when the agent needed to reload. The guards stood no chance advancing down the narrow hallway.<p>

"Oh shit, I think I just shot a tech… Oh wait, no he's good! Get he fuck out of here man!" Tony yelled as a new group of soldiers attempted advancing down the hall, a terrified technician dropped to the floor, hands over his head.

"Jesus, those guys reproduce like jackrabbits out there. How the hell many of them are there? Reloading! Dima!"

Dima swung around again, giving Tony time to reload. And then, they heard McGee gasp. All heads, including Ethan's, swung to McGee, their eyes wide with terror. McGee turned to them.

"I… think I stopped it… I can't tell for sure."

On the screen flashed bright green letters.

*****INDEX OFFLINE*****

*****INDEX POWERING DOWN*****

*****3...2...1…INDEX DEACTIVATED*****

"Holy shit Probie! You did it! You fuckin did it!" Tony screamed as he ran over to McGee and hugged him as tight as Abby and kissed the top of his head. Dima saw this and ran to cover the hallway.

"Well, we'll see if everything standing when we meet up with Kort." McGee pulled from his tactical vest the GPS transmitter, flipped open the cap, and pressed the button, activating it. He then pulled the flash drive containing The Index from the computer.

* * *

><p>"Alright gentlemen, the beacon is active. I have their position!" The pilot of the HH-60G Pave Hawk called to the crew. Gibbs smiled grimly and Kort nodded. The extraction soldiers racked their weapons and the soldiers manning the side GAU-17A Miniguns began spinning them, warming them up.

* * *

><p>"Ok, let's go!" Dima called to the agents. McGee and Tony grabbed their equipment and Dima hoisted Ethan onto his back, but Ethan protested.<p>

"No *cough* Dima. I'll cover the retreat. You guys get out of here." he said weakly. Dima ignored him as he steadied him on his broad soldiers. The huge man then pulled a grenade from Tony's vest and flung it down the hallway.

"That vill cover us. This vay! Down the opposite vay!"

The agents again followed Dima, but not before Tony pulled his last grenade and tossed it into the room. As they ran, the explosion completely destroyed Ethan's work station. They ran down the way they had been originally traveling, in the opposite direction of their torture chamber and the entrance of the temple. Dima wound his way like a rat in a maze, turning left and right then left again. At one point McGee thought they had turned around. They pushed past technicians who frantically tried to hide from the gunfire.

Eventually, after an arduously tedious journey through the halls of the temple, Dima burst through an old wooden door, exposing them to the early morning sun as it filtered through the jungle.

* * *

><p>They sprinted up the mountainside on the West side of the temple as fast as the suffocating jungle would allow. Bullets ripped through the foliage and embedded themselves in the tree trunks and earth around them, but miraculously, they all missed their marks.<p>

"There is a clearing over the ridge! Hold on Ethan!" Dima called as the four men reached the top of the mountain. As soon as the crested it, it began to descend, and they fought they're way through the jungle until they pushed out into the clearing. It was a field of knee high grass about the size of a football field, with a house sized boulder in the center.

"The boulder. We'll post up there! God dammit Kort where the fuck are you!" Tony yelled frantically. The men ran through the grass, finally reaching the boulder. Dima carefully placed Ethan on the ground as Tony and Tim took up defensive positions against the boulder, aiming their weapons in the direction they just came. Dima didn't leave Ethan's side.

"Ethan? Ethan? ETHAN!" the big man screamed as large tears fell from caring and misunderstood light blue eyes. He cradled Ethan's limp head in his giant hands, and stooped down, pressing his forehead against the agent's. Ethan's shaking hand rose to pat Dima's shoulder. The sobbing Russian looked deep into Ethan's eyes.

"I'm sorry Ethan! I'm so, so, so sorry!" Ethan mustered a smile, and nodded.

"I *cough* forgive you, Dima."

"Please Ethan. Don't die!" Dima sobbed, his face contorting with utter sadness.

"Dima! Dima!" McGee called, "They're coming out of the forest! Dima!"

Dima turned his head as his body shook from crying. He heard guns firing and pieces of the rock they were hiding behind began exploding into shrapnel as bullets hit it. He then turned back to Ethan with an apologetic expression.

"Am I a good man, Ethan? Tell me. Am I a good man?" Dima cried as his head shook. Ethan smiled as he grew white.

"Yeah. Yeah you are Dima. You're a good man. A damn good man. It was an honor knowing you…"

Dima pulled his friend to his chest and sobbed, hugged him close, whispered something in Russian, then stood to help McGee and DiNozzo. They maintained suppression fire, keeping the soldiers who hid amongst the thick jungle at bay.

"Where the fuck is the helicopter?" DiNozzo screamed, his voice wrought with desperation.

"I don't know! Tony, I got one clip left! I'm almost out of ammo!" Tim yelled back as he reloaded.

"Make them count!" Dima called.

"I'm almost out too!" Tony responded. "Pick your shots!"

* * *

><p>Then, without warning, the tree line that the Russian soldiers were shooting from exploded into shrapnel. The HH-60G Pave Hawk side gunners swept the edge of the clearing, firing 4,000 rounds per minute from their mounted gatling guns as the extraction helicopter roared over the field. McGee looked up to the helicopter and saw two soldiers with machine guns firing, as well as Gibbs firing single well placed rounds from his sniper rifle.<p>

Entire trees fell, their trunks erupting as the miniguns cut everything down, including the soldiers, with the sound of a million angry hornets buzzing. As the helicopter descended, the gunners kept firing. One of the soldiers on the side of the helicopter swung his hand in a 'GET THE FUCK IN THE HELICOPTER' motion. Just as the helicopter touched down, the three men ran out of ammunition. Dima picked Ethan's body up from the earth. They sprinted through the grass towards their saving grace, lungs and bodies burning from exhaustion.

Finally, they reached the helicopter, and tumbled in. Without hesitation, the helicopter rocketed upwards, banking hard as the soldiers, including Gibbs and Kort, who were strapped in, clung to the four men to keep them from sliding out.

* * *

><p>And in an instant, they were soaring over the canopy, far from danger.<p>

The soldiers on the helicopter looked curiously at Dima, and Kort even glared suspiciously. McGee saw their glances as he rested his head against the back wall of the passenger compartment of the helicopter, and spoke the simple truth.

"He's with us."

Dima turned to McGee, and with tears in his eyes, hugged the agent. Kort nodded, turning around, and Gibbs even smiled as the helicopter made its way over crystal blue seas towards the USS Ronald Reagan.

* * *

><p><strong>WOOOO! MISSION COMPLETE!<strong>

**I really hope you all are enjoying this! I've LOOOOVED writing it. But this is not the end. Not yet. **


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

* * *

><p>Ducky, Ziva, Abby, Jimmy, and Director Vance stood anxiously in front of a large hanger at Bolling Airforce Base. Gibbs had called them, informing the group that they were coming home. While they were all abuzz with nervous excitement, there was something in Gibbs' voice that told them something was up. Ziva stood silently, hands clenched into fists as her heart jumped at the sound of every plane passing over the air force base. Ducky's fingers softly caressed something in his hands as his gentle eyes peered from behind his spectacles. Abby paced and Jimmy attempted following her. Vance simply clenched his jaw. Then, over the loud speaker came a voice:<p>

***Attention all hands! Medical staff to runway 7. I repeat, medical staff to runway 7. Callsign Hercules Seven-Four incoming with wounded. E.T.A. Five minutes. Order Triage!***

From the hangar, multiple ambulances pulled forward as the medical personal prepared their equipment. The group watched on as they awaited Hercules Seven-Four.

* * *

><p>And finally, the enormous plane came into view, its engines roaring as the sound of its hydraulic flaps engaged, slowing the plane for landing. The wheels descended, and in a cloud of burnt rubber, it touched down. The ambulances crept forward as the plane decelerated, coming to a stop about 50 yards from the opening of the hangar.<p>

Ziva couldn't control herself. She began running, and upon seeing that, Abby and Jimmy followed. Ducky walked as quickly as he could, placing whatever he had been holding into his pocket and snapping on latex gloves.

The group wound their way between the ambulances as the cargo door of Hercules Seven-Four opened. As soon as the door was down, they gasped. Two men, one of enormous stature, and an airman from the C-130, carried a stretcher with an American flag draped across it, covering the body. Abby immediately grabbed Ziva's arm, burying her face in her shoulder. Ziva's lip quivered. Then following the stretcher, they saw their boys.

Gibbs, Tony, and Tim walked slowly together, Tony's arm around McGee's shoulder, who supported the older agent as they walked. Gibbs carried his sniper rifle, a rough look on his face. Both McGee and Tony had bandages winding around their heads, and McGee had a dressing wrapped around his left hand. Their faces were cut, but the bleeding had stopped. The two agents waved off the medical personnel. Ziva couldn't help herself as she ran to them.

* * *

><p>Dima carefully loaded the body of his only friend into a C.I.A. coroner vehicle. He then turned to see a woman wrap her arms around McGee. Gibbs took over supporting Tony as Ziva buried her face in her boyfriend's neck. McGee pulled her close, closer than he ever had before, tears streaming down his face. Tony and Gibbs continued off the cargo gate and were met by Abby, who pulled them both into a hug. Tony chuckled slightly and Gibbs even smiled.<p>

Ziva didn't want to let go, but when she loosened her hug, she stared lovingly into McGee's eyes. But, his emerald orbs locked with hers only for a moment, then turned down. She frowned, pinching his chin and raising his face to meet hers. Again, he looked away, trying to manage a smile. Knowing full well that look from her far away past, Ziva's heart broke, and all she could do was pull McGee into a comforting, supporting hug. That's all McGee wanted right now. He needed to feel loved. He needed to feel approval. His hands shook as he rubbed Ziva's back, his tears wetting her shoulder.

"It's ok, my love. I'm here for you." She whispered to him. McGee nodded, sniffling. They released slowly, turning, and walked to where Vance, Ducky, Jimmy, Gibbs, Tony, Abby, and now Kort were speaking. The group turned questioningly as Dima timidly approached. He smiled weakly, tears still in his eyes. Kort cleared his throat.

"Alright, so apparently," he spoke, almost embarrassed, "The Index was one of the largest single threat to the United States we've ever known. I, ummm, guess our intel missed that. We've gained control of our nukes. And so have all the other nations infiltrated. A bunch of computer technicians had heart attacks though. You boys, stopped it right before things got bad. Right in time. You NCIS agents really are the 'dramatic finale' types, aren't you?"

"Damn straight!" Tony laughed as he held onto Abby. Kort continued, turning to Dima, but speaking more to Vance, Abby, Ducky, and Palmer.

"And this is Dima. He was a Mikhailov loyalist. That is, until he met Agent Andrew Perez. Or, Ethan Barnes. That's classified, by the way. We all have Dima here, and Ethan, God rest his soul, to thank. And Dima saved the lives of Agents McGee and DiNozzo from a madman."

The group shared a moment of silence, and Ducky slowly walked to Dima, and stretched out his right hand. Dima took, and shook it slowly, his eyes looking down into the old man's.

"My good man, I thank you. Not only for making the right decisions based on your conscience at the right time, but for bringing two of my dearest friends home to us. We are forever in your gratitude." The group nodded in agreement as Dima smiled. The large Russian then turned to Tim and Tony. As the two agents spoke to the Russian, the rest of the group listened to their hushed conversation.

"Thanks big man. We would be dead if it weren't for you." Tony smiled as he slapped the man's arm. Dima's smile grew.

"Es nothing. Just… tried to be a good man. Ethan wanted it that way."

"You're a good man in my book." Tony replied. A new set of tears rolled down Dima's cheeks.

"Dima, we owe you our lives. I can't thank you enough." McGee mustered, his eyes looking through Dima in the 'thousand yard stare'. Dima nodded, then enveloped the two agents in a hug.

"I vill never forget you, Tim and Tony. I vill never forget you." he whispered. The big man released them, turning as he stepped into the vehicle with Ethan's body. Kort reminded the agents that they'd be debriefed soon, then followed Dima and stepped into the passenger seat to accompany Ethan's body. The doors shut, and the vehicle silently drove off.

The two agents regrouped with their fellow NCIS members. Ziva wrapped her arm around McGee's waist as Ducky cleared his throat.

"Now, my dearest boys, firstly I would like to say, welcome home. And, I have something for you." Ducky pulled from his pocket the Distinguished Conduct Medal and held it out to his two boys. Tony carefully lifted it from Ducky's fingers as the M.E. continued.

"This was given to me by the Queen many years ago for my service in the field. I have no need for it now, and wanted to give it to you to share. While I was not there to witness your harrowing Operation, I am quite sure that it required distinguished conduct in the field."

Tim and Tony both hugged Ducky, who wrapped them in his arms. They finally broke apart when Gibbs cleared his throat, smiling at his agents.

"Come on boys. Let's go home."

* * *

><p><strong>Woooo! They're Home!<strong>


	29. Epilogue 1

**The Fall Index: Epilogue 1**

**Contains Language**

**A sincere thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed, and provided feedback. I love you!**

* * *

><p><strong>NE WEEK LATER <strong>

McGee sat on the couch in his apartment, his face in his trembling hands. Beside him sat Ziva, comfortingly rubbing his back, her cheek on his shoulder.

"I whipped him Zee. I whipped him to death. Oh god!" McGee leaned back as his hands swept up to the top of his head, his red eyes staring at the ceiling.

"I… I'm a monster. I just… couldn't get the voice out of my head. It kept telling me… telling me to show them that I was strong. I can't believe it. I… just… kept whipping him."

Ziva kissed his shoulder, whispering quietly.

"It is ok, Ahuvi. You were overcome with the mission. All the killing around you. The fact that you feel remorse now, shows me that you know it was wrong, and you are willing to face it. I know, Tim. I have experienced rage like that. You will be ok. It may take time, but I am here for you, always. I know what it's like, and I will be there for you every step of the way. Not from that, but I want you to know, I never doubted that you are strong. As I've said before, you are one of the strongest men I know. And you successfully completed your mission, no? That is something to be proud of. I, Tim, am proud of you."

Ziva wrapped herself around McGee, who pulled her close, relishing her contact as it grounded him. Ziva had known something had gone horribly wrong on the Op. Through her experiences, she knew that one may come out seemingly unscathed, but be rendered numb or filled with guilt and shame. She saw the 'thousand yard stare' and the darting eyes on her boyfriend, and knew something happened. She just hadn't expected that.

McGee. Timothy McGee. Timothy No-Middle-Name McGee, had essentially tortured a man (albeit evil man). He had forced him into the chair, and beat him close to death with the symbol of McGee's past abuse. Then, while the man lay pleading on the ground, McGee shot him.

Ziva felt as McGee convulsed against her, tears streaming from his contorted face. She simply stayed at his side, cooing like a mother comforting a child.

"I… I- can… still see his face, Ziva. His face. OH MY GOD HIS FACE!" McGee's body began shaking more violently as Ziva held him, rubbing his back.

"You will see his face for some time, Tim." Ziva whispered as McGee looked at her with an expression quite similar to betrayal. He was in disbelief that she'd say a thing like that, but his analytical mind reasoned. _She's only telling you the truth. She's only telling you what you need to hear... Oh god I can see his face!_

Ziva released Tim and leaned back, looking him square in the eyes as she held his tormented face in her hands.

"You will see his face when you are awake and you will see it when you sleep. You will see his face on strangers, and those you know. You will see his reflection in mirrors and windows and puddles. But, it will fade over time. This I know to be fact. And you will understand that he was an evil man. If you had not killed him, he would continue to harm others. He would harm innocent people. Women and children McGee. That, is the man you killed."

McGee mustered a nod.

"Say it, Tim."

McGee avoided her eyes.

"Say it."

"He was…"

"He was what?"

"He was an evil man."

"And…"

"And he needed to die."

"Why?"

"Because of the innocent- the innocent lives he could have claimed."

"He WOULD claim. I know men like that, Tim. I have known evil men my whole life, and I know there are evils deeds that they cannot resist. And they WILL claim innocent lives."

"The innocent lives he would claim." McGee let out an enormous sigh and stood abruptly. Ziva watched him carefully as he paced through the room, running his hands through his hair and shaking his head. She knew of the things McGee was dealing with; an overwhelming feeling of guilt. That he was a murderer. That he tried to show strength through a moment of weakness. She reached over to the arm of the couch and pulled a plush blanket from it, then nodded to McGee. With bleary eyes, he slowly sat against her. She wrapped him and herself in the blanket, keeping as much of her body in contact with his as possible, letting him feel that she was there. He sighed into her, holding her tight as he began to cry again. Tears fell from Ziva's eyes as well as she whispered to her love.

"Ssshhhh Ahuvi. You are strong. You are noble. You saved many lives. And I love you."

"I love you too Ziva. So much. So damn much."

* * *

><p>They sat in comforting silence for what seemed like forever and an instant, simply feeling their supportive contact, as they drifted off to sleep. Then, McGee's phone buzzed angrily from the coffee table.<p>

McGee's eyes wearily blinked open, but was immediately in a better mood than he had been before. _Good, no nightmares. _He reached forward and saw who the caller was. Gibbs.

"McGee."

"Hey Tim, how you doin'?" Gibbs asked. McGee was still not used to this verbally caring Gibbs. It didn't happen too often, but often enough (for Gibbs, at least), but the man showed occasionally that he cared.

"I'm good Boss, what can I do for you?"

"I want you to come over to my place. Got something for you. Bring Ziver."

"Uhh ok Boss."

The line went dead and Ziva stirred. It was almost dinner time, and they both needed food. They both needed rest as well. For the past week, McGee's nightmares had torn him from sleep, gasping and occasionally screaming. Ziva, having a plethora of experience in dealing with those with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, calmly reassured him of where he was, who she was, that everything was ok, and even who he was at times. For a man like McGee, PTSD was something that would be a lifelong struggle, like an addiction. Conceived from his incredibly deep and thoughtfully pondering mind, his inert thoughts would, for a long time, revert to what happened in Borneo. But, Ziva was ready and willing to face it with him.

She softly kissed him on the cheek and gave him a squeeze.

"Let's go to Gibbs'."

* * *

><p><strong>ONE HOUR LATER<strong>

"Boss, you made this? For me?" McGee asked, borderline incredulously. Gibbs nodded as he leaned against the workbench in his basement, smiling.

McGee looked at the beautiful woodwork in front of him, the perfectly polished pieces and the immaculate board. The dark squares on the board were perfectly straight and symmetrical, and they shone with gloss and pride. McGee placed the pieces carefully on the board in their appropriate arrangement, a childlike happiness in his eyes, as Ziva nodded to Gibbs, mouthing the words, 'thank you'. Gibbs nodded again.

"So, McGee, wanna play?" Gibbs handed him and Ziva a glass of bourbon then slid two folding chairs on either side of the bench. McGee looked at him, his green eyes sparkling. He then took a seat, and his boss followed suit.

* * *

><p><strong>45 MINUTES LATER<strong>

"Checkmate." Gibbs said calmly, the thin smile ever present on his face.

McGee looked at the Chess board in disbelief. While it had taken some time, Gibbs had succeeded in capturing his king. The older man crossed his arms across his USMC sweater.

"Didn't think this old man could beat you?" He jested. McGee, still staring at the pieces on the board, smiled.

"No, it's just that, well, I used to be really good at Chess. You surpirsed me. Wasn't expecting that. Was that the Max Lange Attack?"

Gibbs nodded again.

"Wow, that was really good. You're ummm, better than I thought Boss." McGee said as he picked up his only remaining Rook. He held it to the light, seeing that a quarter of the top of the little castle piece had been broken off. Gibbs made no move to explain it. The writer in him immediately saw the connection between the piece and himself. His callsign was Rook. And here, at home, was a broken Rook. The writer within him saw the parallel in it. Odd though, that it was the Rook that had broken, not any of the other pieces that Gibbs had made. Ziva stood quietly watching the gears turning in her boyfriend's head.

McGee's hand began to tremble as he held it, staring at the blemish. A blemish that could not ever be fixed. Then, McGee felt Gibbs hand cover his, and he released the piece into his Boss' grasp. Gibbs then held it up, examining it as he smiled. He then placed it back down on the center of the board, staring at his young agent.

"You see, McGee. This Rook may be a little broken. Got a piece missing. But, it still serves its purpose, despite it. It still functions the way it should. It continues living. It continues fighting. And it will always be a Rook. Damaged, yes, but a proud, capable, and strong Rook none the less."

A tear slipped from McGee's eye as he stared at the Chess piece. Gibbs stood from the chair and walked past his seated agent, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Gibbs understood. The older man walked up the stairs slowly as he saw Ziva put her arms around McGee and bury her face in his neck. Gibbs smiled, and stopped on the stairs as he spoke.

"McGee, you know my door is always unlocked. Any hour, any reason you're welcome here. You too Ziver."

The grey haired man then turned, continuing up the steps, and smiling proudly to himself.

_It will be tough, but with us around him, Tim will be just fine. _

* * *

><p><em><strong>Another Epilogue coming...<strong>  
><em>


	30. Epilogue 2

******Epilogue 2**

******Ok, so this is the final installment of The Fall Index! I hope you all enjoyed reading it as I did writing it! And I hope I conveyed everything cleanly, logically, and easy to read for you all (minus some grammatical errors that I am aware of haha)**

******To Junee, 68lovecarter, lifes2real, sazzita, gottahavemyNCIS, and camry72...**

******Thank you very much for your consistent, helpful, encouraging, and thought provoking reviews. I owe this story to you, as you helped inspire me and keep the story going through your ideas, comments, and questions regarding the individual chapters. It may just seem like the story explained important things, but much of the info I decided I needed to address through your comments, so I honestly and sincerely say, that I could not have written this without you. As far as others who have reviewed that I did not mention, your reviews were very valued as well in keeping this story going. I'm not too sure whether I'm going to add to this with a sequel, or start a whole new Tim-centered fic. Thank you all again!**

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><p><strong>ONE MONTH LATER<strong>

The receptionist within the Central Intelligence Agency's Original Headquarter Building looked up with a questioning expression. She recognized Trent Kort, in a frshly pressed suit, shiny bald head, and his furrowed brow. But she didn't recognize the man beside Kort, who towered a good half foot over him. The man was built like a truck and had to weigh at least 250 pounds of pure muscle. But it was not his sheer intimidating size that surprised her, but the calm and even apologetic demeanor he had. Kort nodded to her as they walked past her desk, indicating that he was cleared to be in the building.

She strained her eyes to identify the large text book the enormous man carried in his hand. It had numerous multicolored post-it notes sticking out of the pages, and was obvious by its condition that the man had made good use of it. As they passed, she read the cover.

_**Introduction to Veterinary Medicine**_

She thought it odd that a man of that size, who could easily have played some professional sport by his massive and athletic build, would be studying to be a veterinarian, but the receptionist had seen alot of odd people come and go through the C.I.A. building. She looked back down at her computer and continued the email she had been working on.

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><p>At the end of the lobby, they reached the far wall. Both stopped, looking intently at it.<p>

"There he is, Dima." Kort spoke quietly, his tone the epitome of respect and reverence.

On the wall, between a United States flag, and the flag of the Central Intelligence Agency, were rows of stars beneath some writing, engraved in the marble wall.

**In Honor Of Those Members Of The Central Intelligence Agency Who Gave Their Lives In The Service Of Their Country**

Kort leaned forward, and softly touched the last star on the bottom row. Star number 103. Kort then turned, patted Dima on the shoulder, and walked over to the receptionist to give Dima a moment with his friend. He turned to see Dima hold his text book up to the wall, as if showing Ethan's star his new life.

"Hello, Ethan. I… I vanted to show you this. It… it's my veterinarian textbook. I… I enrolled at the community college here in Langley. So I could be nearby... if- if you need anything. Mr. Kort is vorking on getting me citizenship, and I am helping him vith vat I know about Leo's group. I… I still speak vith Agent McGee and DiNozzo. Ve've been out to bars and ve even vent camping. Agent DiNozzo… vell, he tells me to call him Tony, chased Timothy around vith a fish he caught at the lake. Timothy's girlfriend and I laughed. She's a nice girl. Maybe I'll meet vun like her someday. Ven I do, I vill tell you. I just…"

A tear rolled down Dima's cheek, the big man shifting his text book to wipe it away.

"I vish you vere vith us. Agent Gibbs took me to the firing range, but betveen you and me, I don't care for guns anymore. Timothy is a writer. Did you know that? I am reading his books, and they're very good. It's crime fiction. He says he's already written a character of me into his next novel. Timothy is a good man."

Dima took a deep breath and stared at his feet.

"I… Every day I try to be a good man, Ethan. Like you said. I volunteer at a hospital here. I mainly lift heavy things and clean, but vonce I played vith a little girl who's mother was going through… how you say? Chemo… chemotherapy? She gave me her pony doll. It's on my nightstand in my apartment."

Dima leaned forward, placing his palm on the marble, his thumb over Ethan's star.

"I'm doing very vell in my classes. I am getting good grades. All A's and vun B. If I get citizenship, and keep studying hard, my professor said I could transver… I think that's the word... to any school on the East coast vor my veterinary studies. But I think I vant to stay close to you. You changed my life, Ethan. You showed me…"

Dima sniffled.

"… that no matter vat you've done, anyone can be a good man, if they try hard enough. I miss you Ethan. I vill be back in vun month to tell you more."

Dima pressed his thumb onto Ethan's star and took a deep breath. He turned slowly, his body language speaking volumes of how he didn't want to leave his friend. Kort and the receptionist watched him as he approached them.

"Thank you, Mr. Kort. Thank you ma'am." The receptionist nodded, smiling to the Russian. As they headed out the way they came, Kort pushed his hands into his pockets, turning his head toward Dima.

"You know something big man, I am almost certain we can get you that citizenship."

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><p><strong>Wooo! Sorry if that was a bit of a tearjerker, but had to conclude Dima's side of the story. Again, I hope you liked reading this, and thank you for the reviews. Keep a look out for more of my stuff coming up soon! :)<strong>

**Sir Papillon**


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